Couldn’t settle for 38, so here’s to 40.

I will unbar my eyelids and let them glide,
like shades in a well mannered home,
closing in upon themselves.
Teeth will not be ground,
like rubble,
deep within a particular shoulder.
The temperature will level off in a cool,
but mindful state,
separating consciousness
from protestation.
The floor may split,
but only for a moment,
when I will gladly step in
unencumbered.  

“Drip.”, gasps a restless intrusion
Murky tap from retina pools of “I don’t know”
and I long for someone to taste it. 

“Drip.”, admits the back of my throat 
One palm against a medicinal chest and she hums my prescription.

“Drip.”, says that encumbered reflection
Mermaid of my bathroom mirror
The fluidity of her prose leaves me drowning
and I have no desire to swim.  

I am a gas station lighter
cheap, colorful plastic
fumbling
through calloused hands,
loved passionately-

-but briefly.