WHAT IT WAS
The waterfall was a waterfall. That’s really all. I want to say it was like a river tipped over, or a slippery tongue blasting outwards from a rock face, or a translucent liquid finale to a dream in which I loved you. But it was a waterfall. Water, falling. Dropping. Down. Down.
SHOES
There are no words this time
in this white room
with the bed screwed into the middle
of the floor
No words to say
to this plaid blanket
I used to have words.
When I asked the men, who are you and
why are you here? They replied
you have to put on your shoes