He wants to build you a house
out of your own bones, but
that’s where you’re living any way!
The next time he calls
you answer the telephone with the
sound of your grandmother being
born. It was a twenty-three-hour
labor in 1894. He hangs up.
HEY HEY HEY HOW’S MY BEST GIRLFRIEND
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.” —Dylan Thomas, My hero bares his nerves