THE RUN DOWN

This beginning was broken
and then came the ethereal collapse.
It was a dream
where you hover
and watch yourself
speak.
The mouth doesn’t move
but words still manage to

echo

echo
echo.
Reverberations
bounce
and slam against your throat.
Choke them back,
let them melt against your teeth.
My false face is on again
because I’m confronted
with what cannot be held.
I pick it up with kid gloves.
Roll it in a ball.
Toss it in the air.
It will eventually end up in the trash,
like a candy wrapper or broken toy.
Bent forward,
head in my hands,
hair disheveled.
The dream ended,
but I never woke up.
The only way I know it was real
is a blood-stain soaks
my shirt where my heart used to be.

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