the Gleam, Pt. 3

I take everything I've already figured out with me wherever I go
Mind like a moth-eaten blanket,
wind whistling through the holes
I wrap up in its wool every day
I walk, I drive, I say hi to the faces of the other parents
I will forget who they are but for now I know

When the nights fall a dark spring opens
I dive entirely in to the holes in my sleeping mind
I swim all night across a black ocean
until day comes again

Standing beneath a sky of airplane noise
the sun on its wheel turning me old
warms the back of my head
death caress
I look across the gulf

I have seen the billowy black
These hereditary perforated minds dream off
and they don't come back

I'll climb through this torn wool mind hole in my knowing
to grandmother's house