like mr. jones


sitting in a child’s chair
next to my daughter’s bed
her quiet breathing
marking time to my thoughts
and barbed wire dreams

she sleeps
deep and calm
something to envy
something i don’t do
so terribly well

thunder rumbles
bending the air
shaking windows
disturbing her rest
i calm her
with one warm hand
upon the small of her back
and with my other hand
reach through the window
grab the lightning
and before it cracks again
tuck it behind my ears
with a whisper
and a wish

thunder rolls again
hear my bear dog
mr. jones
scratching at the side door
figure he too
wants shelter from the storm
open the door
blood on his furry face
his eyes smiling at me
tail wagging
dead wolf
mangled at his feet
i wipe his face
and tell him
he’s a good dog
for protecting the family
a good dog
for keeping the wolf at bay
hug him around
his bloody neck
as he knocks me over
in excited pride

i wrestle
with dreams i don’t share
for the sake of those i love
with dreams i don’t utter
for the sake of myself
i lost track of frings
after the crash
or maybe deep down
i know
he lost track of me
i’m not angry
i’m not resentful
we fell from the sky
like a broken bird
shot through the heart
and i disappeared
into the hot desert sand
40 broken bones
a coma for a year

what could i expect
of him

but the truth is
i listen for him
in the echoes
of conversations
i look for him
in the reflection
of things



Image: Boolynn & B. Reeves
Words: B. Reeves


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