i said everything there was to say
to the fireplace between logs when i passed it a note
holding a dream whose ashing did not comfort me as much as i had hoped

somewhere is a hole where the cricket lives
and now it is here, right next to us
and we are tiny beside the great rumbling cricket
whose calls go unanswered for hours
in what is cold weather, for a cricket

between the buildings there is a space where it rains
where you cannot stand but there are people just across
cooking or sitting on the counter or
trying to fix their computer

i chew my lip because i don't relax enough
even under this blanket on a pile of springs in autumn
i feel wound up and ready for anything
even though i am not

i built it and tore it down because nothing can last forever
we just have to keep building when we're not sitting down
keep cooking or trying to fix our computers

outside the crickets are fresh even though their pattern is old
and they rumble and molt and skitter
and stare at the moon reflected in a drop of water

to the fireplace between logs, i say
holding a dream whose ashing did not comfort me was everything
as much as i had hoped and so on
that i passed the test

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