This bed is a ship | Sid Branca's online journal of writing scraps

This bed is a ship is a sporadically updated internet journal, 
a home for odd scraps of writing.


as my heart splays and threads itself across town
I wonder why gravity pulls me hard to broken men -- 
perhaps they remind me of my father,
or the broken man inside myself
or because the tools I sharpened to repair myself
ache for use I will not give them

I ask the moon, a shining bowl tipped and full and it says:
       because you are empty
       because you are too full
and it ducks behind a building
leaving me quiet
I imagine an altar covered in needles and ash

the moon adds a parting shot:
maybe you should try dating a Taurus
or maybe truly well and good no one at all
to pour yourself out in different ways
to find that verdant field within yourself
that you are forever seeking out in others

build yourself a rough-hewn house of good strong wood
so you have somewhere to turn to when winds blow rough off course
build your home up safe from flood, protect yourself from fire
though you are made of all most flammable parts
learn what you look like in the mirror
and you finally won't need one
you will see clearly through the steam

you like the broken because you yearn to enter in
but remember, not all points of entry
must be made of shattered glass
sometimes you can simply walk in through the door

Sid BrancaComment