The Sleepwalker With The Shame To Threaten All Freedom Poem by gregory collins

The jewels are in a mine where i will lie someday. Where
i will blow the oil lamp out and make light weep.

Fluttering in the grass like a butterfly, to see how small
i have become: To see how small the tender skin of the earth

is when getting pregnant and stretched. But like the last flower
in the distant misty fields of summer, i sometimes

wake up with the wrinkled heavy breath of dreams.
Like crying with summer during fits of coughing is one side of time.

I mean I even try to wash my face without the sound of my sobbing,
but i just threw away all my milestones for the dark of the sun.

Where the naval cord of the moon is still uncut, and i,
like a defeated soldier changing their song to someone

waking up a widow. I move my footsteps to where
there is no doorstep. I cut the tongue of the sky off

with a sharp knife and wave that flag so the other side
is not the one who is laughing, but calling. Asking me

to slip through the shaking fingers that await no acclaimation.
No stars sleeping together many years later filling my chest with their sadness.

Almost like the sky picks the tune of the last music for its fire,
and walks into hell carrying a gasoline can like a comb for time;

Like i am hurting bringing me back to bore a hole to sail through the river of sleep.