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“When Existence is Criminal”

by Michael Chowning

It is all becoming too much 

To hold. The silence has caved in

On itself and lessened to the 

Truth. From the mouths of

Absence come tulips; and 

From their mouths, fire. 

You open your arms to find them

Lengthened, the walls closing in.

You reach your edges to me and

Hope the waves wash over the 

Evidence, erase the photographs. 

Hope that my bedroom window 

Is wide enough to let in what 

I promise with my hands. Again,

The space refusing your expanse-

My eyes all I can give, all I ever

Can give. Softness evolving into

An absence over a presence- the 

Canvas once painted now the 

Portrait. You lay your bones out

In my backyard and I, with sharpened

Hands, look on. The world outside

Paints itself shades of orange

And your girlhood smile suddenly 

Is seen as heresy. I ask, reader, 

Is it evil to slice off your own 

Scars? We ask, world, laid out

In a field, our boyhood all 

Around us- is fulfillment a mirror

That reflects your own emptiness?

Yes, my hands run wild with

Rebellious pleasure- the castle walls

Crumbling beneath the sparrow’s songs. 

Yes, I see your cage of echo-

Your prison of memory which holds

The righteousness of blood. We will,

Once rested, knaw off the barriers

And slit our wrists in the courtyard.

Watch where the blood lean-  how, 

Even in death, we stand together. 

And you, dear- I cannot erase the 

Fists that beat at your door, but I can 

Stand with you in the hall and 

Hold you in whatever way

Will make your buried body 

Feel safe.