Corners, where two edges find each other

are a meeting place where boundaries,

otherwise separate,

intersect, merge, change each other’s course

and then dead end.

Corners set the boundaries that edges can only hope to do.

You can follow a wall with your fingers.

Walls are not immune to touching.

But, when you touch a corner

it is hard to you, resists you, is not seduced by you.

Edges passively go with the flow of your hand

but, corners say, “halt.

None shall pass.

Not even you.”

And the corner is not unforgiving.

It creates a pocket for you to slip into

if you need it,

if you can no longer keep running your hand

along the same yellow wallpaper.

That pocket is like your mother’s womb:

Surrounded by only two walls

yet providing the shelter of a darkness

that resists even the light of an open door.

I would rather you remember me

As sentence whose words could talk

the night right off the wide sky

the gloom right off your sad mouth

the black right off your thick hair

as you run your hands over my lips

and say hush

that’s enough.

I would rather you remember me

As a balloon because heat rises

Higher than Icarus ever soared before the fall

Higher than a worm journeying to heaven

Higher than a cloud of smoke laced with lightning

As you look up at the sky

And say fly

I know you can

I would rather you remember me

As the aftershock of an earthquake

That rips buildings right off the street

That cracks fissures through just-filled potholes

That shakes bodies that just don’t want to dance

As you steady your self

And say no

Not today

I would rather you remember me

As a child that couldn’t stop asking

Why those other places don't have winter

Why time quickens its step with each step

Why winds repel each other if they are the same

As you shake your head

And say because

I said so

I would rather you remember me

As a bird trapped in a human cage

Like a wave crashing against a cliff, my wings beat

Like a heart in a chest, my wings flutter

Like a canvas tent in the wind, my wings flap

As you wave your big arms

And say please

wait for me

#rememberme

A couch draped in tatters

collapses in the corner

of a dying room with curtains drawn.

And me on it,

sunken numbly into the abyss

between the lumpy cushions.

That gap filled with endless darkness

is an extra pillow for my hip;

A barrier to an infinite world below

from which loose coins do not resurface.

Without it I would sink right in.

Dark ink, sticky tar

creates a moat around the sofa

afloat with drowning junk mail 

on the floor

A spilt pile in the corner

has merged 

with the other pile at my feet.

Like magnets with sharp edges

the space between them closes.

Physics is magic.

Soul mates; they are together again

At last.

All bills, all loan offers

splayed wetly on the floor,

are overwhelmed by a heavy spoon.

Now dirty and used

reminiscent of last week's confetti.

Evidence of a party

I’d evidently slept through.

Soggy tree pulp 

torn in scattered shreds.

Covered in syrupy resin.

Or soda.

The paper glues back to itself

as it dries.

Now harder, 

now thicker than before.

It rips in jagged crumbles

Paper returns to wood

with an audible wet smack.

I do not hear it.

A busy mouse is doing all the work

while I notice nothing.