A title will come to me like manna. I don’t know why I’m here
at these words unedited like a runaway train by sabotage.
I want to teach myself to dig up graves. How to exhume buried desires & ngrained, stunted fears. Once it’s been sanitized, I’ll sprinkle some dirt around the pillow & side-pockets.
I’ll instruct myself to lay in the box still as death. Should I leave the lid open? Make a blow-hole like Poe?
Lay down each night since Thanksgiving in my bed forgetting his smell on a pillow washed of his deja vu…