Scandinavia

1.

I've delayed my writing you, you

land. Of dreams filled with allergy

's extension to eye irritation. I haven't

eaten in three days because of my

courage—the gift of suffering for even

more vomit. It's always one eye.

The right one. My right one.

2.

That single fucking bird isn't really blue but

is about to die.

3.

Its final call. Its death song's enormity

emitted through a minor chirp. A peep,

perhaps.

4.

The final knowledge of true language.

Dying. The inevitable, hesitated melody

of life's sustained, droned rhythm. The

kill, then, song, ripped from the body,

pulled through the throat, and out into

the air.

5.

Miss as in error. A failed attempt at

failing. A woman, a yell, wearing exactly

what you wanted. Give me your hand

to speak through. To lick your palm.

6.

Thunderheadless for approximately

two years. Abandon one shoe once

in your life. Sleep in the other one

for thirteen years.

7.

A missing letter, then,

I am a friend to one of you.

8.

It was raining walking inside you someday.

9.

“This is getting insane,” you said in your

text. “I love you,” I didn't reply.

10.

I never saw your hand

-writing.

11.

To remember you before ever sitting in you.

To forget so many things that have never actually

happened.

To disguise my face with my own face in your

winter mouths.

To exist in your breath to steal you away.

To bury a lock of your hair on Lesbos.

To grow you back to where you were you.

To fill a desert with ice picks.

To insist on paying the bill.

To open a container containing.

To fall down again and again.

To disappoint you on a day like any other.

To whistle.

To walk home in you.

To hang myself with a wire.

To fail. To fall and fall.

12.

Corrected teeth uncorrecting. A gap

made from too much space. A tooth

or two extracted. You, still,

smiling when I smile like

like this.

13.

I forgive you, shamed head. Vietnam doesn't

forgive you. It forgets you were never really there.