And here is the tabernacle reconstructed.
There is something underneath the floorboards. Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed. I'm not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not feeding yourself to a bad man against a black sky prickled with small lights. You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. Especially that, but I should have known. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Inside your head the sound of glass, a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion. Inside your head you hear a phone ringing and when you open your eyes only a clearing with deer in it. Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live? Let me do it right for once, for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes, you know the story, simply heaven. You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights! What more do you want? I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you're really there.
And, for a while, I thought I was the princess, cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle, young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with confidence but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess, while I'm out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire, and getting stabbed to death. And the part where I push you flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks, shut up I'm getting to it. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. I can tell already you think I'm the dragon, that would be so like me, but I'm not. Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon. Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on. Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing. Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I couldn't come to your party. So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog of non-definitive acts, something other than the desperation. Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always and then you will die. Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts from one foot to the other. Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed OutĮvery morning the maple leaves.
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