tunnels and tunnels

my body is one long bone

in need of being cracked.


(will this this be the last?)


they say when you dream of houses

you are dreaming of your selves;


i keep dreaming of forgotten rooms,

hidden realms, my parent’s walk-in


closet, split-level bedrooms splayed out

like shelves of lovers coming forward


to read me the sonnets of my sins.


so delicately thin, this line of what was

and what is to come—


we are all so old;

we are all so young:


tunnels and tunnels

through which to run.




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