931

I have a hole in my shirt
from being drunk on the stairs
I tripped and caught the edge
on the end of a rail

I promised not to be vacant
to her hands
and ribs that
made their presence known
when a man holds her gently

I think about moving
to Texas and buying
a wide brimmed hat
to keep out the desert sun

I think about living under
my father’s stairs
and taking care of a brother
that might not know
my full birth name

I think these things
when the moon feels too heavy
in the sky
and I can’t walk straight anymore
without a help from a shoulder

and when I wake
I forget
make new promises of
a life with or without
family
and old lovers’ beds
full of mercury