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Backwards Marathon

de Pinegrove

Hand over hand
I'm pulling myself together
On this itchy couch again
I'd pull you in
But
I couldn't help thinking
Or
My mouth was tarpaulin

Let me start again
I didn't mean to say so
Much about my plans
So you see my hand
See? It's never either/or now
Stigmata ampersand

The morning is the self it's self evident
A clattering of blinds
A mimetic wind
A sympathetic tremor I'm
A tessela of signs

Oh, I close my eyes and
Fractal inner rings of varicose resign
Coiled dark inside
I'll open my eyes and clear my
Throat when I know it's time

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