Museum
in the back of the museum is the oldest room
the door is always shut but unlocked
when you go in no one will stop you
no one else is ever inside
the ceilings are low dark
hushed still air
in the room
a dozen glass boxes
atop a dozen black velvet pedestals
inside each glass box
a specimen of fossilized light
you step closer to the fossils
the room is darker colder
the room itself accommodates no future
the room’s only time is already past
the room is ending ending ending ending
andyou andthelight
andthere are no labels
or titles or descriptions to read
andthere are no names only
the velvet andthe glass
andthe fossils of light perspiring
their memory of burning and
you
the memory you’ve already lit
Pregnancy Poem
I am two prophets / I am the space between bones / melted as cheese / I am more / but less individual / I am not sorry enough / with my cupped hands / I am a bucket everyone asks / is that a bucket / I am sick with questions / I am moonstupid / I am water and mineral / and mucus and the angriest hair / I am more wounded than ever / I am giant sadness / I am a raw planet / I am a swollen arrow / I worry the air
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