For me

This Carrousel

I forgot the here-­‐to-­‐fore, the unsettling of tinnitus, where the earplugs removed the braying of the seahorses in concert with the land horses and air balloons. Let me back into those estuaries, phantom canals of the black honey my leaden legs worked so hard to get through, to make it again, somewhere to sit.

Let me imagine the darkest parts of our bodies.

The words come out like moon-­‐doves: Honey. Honeybees, work rings around the constellations, move in revolutions like this carrousel.

Coordinates break my heart. Everything they weren’t everything once, telling you the longitude and latitude.

I could scream through a sound-­‐proof room, the kitchen’s black dishwater, Manitoba’s moonlight or a paper boat. And you’d hear me, in concert with the land horses and the hot air balloons.