Coming Back

Four Crows pull 4 long cables
Attached to my shoulders and toes.
They Move me like a crane does a heavy pipe.
Like a helicopter dragging a cargo almost too heavy to pull
They puppet master me one block back,
Struggling.
I’m An oversized couch squeezing into a narrow apt.
The Crows are hacking and Jerking in different directions to budge the cow further.
Like most domesticated beasts
I give up once I get to the pen.
What’s the point in fighting now?
In fact, swiping off the 4 chains as if spider webs,
I walk myself in.
Never choosing defeat until it’s the last chance of dignity.
Never wanting sleeps darkness
Until it blinds me standing.
I give in.
I make a fort out of this prison.

Branded in my cellular sleep
A Hot bath burns the brass horns off of my ear.
Sizzling until I’m numb
I cool and harden like a blacksmith’s molten rod into a pool.
Welcome to night.
Fish from the darkest oceans of my mind
wiggle upwards like a lone seltzer bubble that doesn’t burst at the top.
They look sideways out my aquarium eyes
Trying to Peer through the ferns of my eye lashes
That begin to Open and close and breath softly like swaths on a pine tree.
They can see the cavern of another universe,
Faint impressions of my bedroom
Illuminated by Two rhombuses projected on my wall by the street lamp outside,
The shiny edges of the deodorant stick and jack knife on my dresser.
They can’t make sense of these dim foreign images
That slowly flicker from my windows open, curtains closed eyelids
As I try to make sense of theirs.