carl sagan

That shadowy place where our bodies meet
is the only place God doesn't exist.
We do it alone.

Where you liked carl sagan.
Where the cats started purring
when they saw us kissing.
Where you saw my mother's naked breasts
shake and heave
when the EMT's ripped off her shirt
to pierce her throat
after her overdose.
Where I held you in the hospital,
smelling your hair,
smelling the fire
as you slept in a fever

and i liked to look you in the eye
when the needle plunged
because i had no access
to any entrance
and you looked like you were coming

when you cried about that little boy who once long ago
left a birthday song on your answering machine.
You were so precious

pretending to breast-feed
when you needed regression.
Now you just need to leave

to forget the times we knew the Other
felt small. Me too-
I don't blame you.
Who can bury a dead sky?

It's better to leave it as it lays
and swear you never saw a color that cold,
never felt that lonely.

In my dream,
Mother Theresa is a child whore in Calcutta
saving insects from drowning in rain puddles
between johns. She never sees the age of twenty.

In my dream, Jesus is a leper
who got sick holding a dying child.
He never forgave himself for trying.

Dear you, you were supposed to be the safe place.
You were supposed to be the storm that happened on tv
to somebody else's family.
Not to me.