[Header Photo by Zac Gudakov on Unsplash]

“And at once, I knew I was not magnificent”

“Halocene,” Bon Iver

i wake at 2:31 am
finding dried blood
crusted on my left earlobe

i slip stiffly from bed
and walk into our bathroom
looking in the mirror

i clean off the blood
as i often do recognizing
my father’s face in mine

i squeeze the lobe
hoping to stem the bleeding
while fighting the urge to cry

i worry that the tears
might also be blood
so i hold my breath instead

•

i see a single copper strand
of your hair swirled in the sink
and think of your vodka perfume

i smelled walking in your wake
down the apartment steps
when we were leaving together

i check the bleeding lobe
with you alone in our bed
turned away from me in the dark

•

i found my father once
covered in blood
lying on his bathroom floor

i knew he had held inside
the bleeding ulcer
until the truth had to come out

i release my lobe
to see my aging skin cracked
wet blood forming there still

•

i worry the bleeding
will never stop
until i am no longer here

i know some day too soon
i will no longer be here
like my father years ago gone

•

i return to bed after 3 am
with the bleeding stalled
worried about the pillowcase

i am too awake to sleep
wanting to touch you
to make sure this is real

i am heavy with my father’s face
i am drunk on your perfume
i want to be here forever