Peel off all the operations,, the imperfections,

in any order,

the square root of something.

Rip the scars and the scabs off right along with the landscape,

coming back over and over , all at once.

asking for more time, all at once.

and fewer landscapes, all at once.

Returning to the house with the high grass,

and encouraging me to remember the green vases,

and never forget them….how could I?

But I did.

and somehow there was a tunnel under it all,

under me and through my veins and the smoke and the peeling windows,

with each keystroke,

two different stories conversations took place,

I can grow stronger or more fearful ,

;;;;and I never did.

I’ll have to ingest all this dread, and navigate the tunnels to, and mind my veins, and the vases.

I just thought I should say it out loud.