Thursday

note

my body's experiencing a blackout
but i cant remember why. surely
ive done something, messed with
the power sockets. stuck a fork
in-between my ribs until everything
crashed and went dark. 
all that's left now is a dull throb
pounding behind my eyelids and a 
need to run that makes my legs twitch
restlessly and recklessly. yesterday
i asked my dad if he would look for me
if i left a note asking him not to.
he told me he would follow my shadow
everywhere. because that's what fathers do, you see
they revert borders to blurs and stand
beneath your window in case you leap.
my dad said he'd sleep with an atlas
under his pillow until he found me
and i know he doesn't lie. 

i know he'd hear the alarm bells in my goodbye note. 
right now, i wonder
if he'd find them in this poem. 

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