Improv 1, Week 8

Myth

I was asleep while you were dying.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and my waking,

the Erebus I keep you in, still trying
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking

you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.

*

Again and again, this constant forsaking:
My eyes open, I find you do not follow.
You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.

But in dreams you live. So I try taking,
Not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow.
The Erebus I keep you in—still , trying—

I make between my slumber and my waking.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow.
I was asleep while you were dying.

----------------------

Partly Cloudy

I was learning, while you were barely breathing,
that twelve times eight is somewhere below one hundred:
those multiplication tables delay my learning

of your death. They are mind fog, never allowing
me to make them out, follow if that’s ghost or dead
knowledge, cloud, smoke, or evaporating.

If I were learning about you while you were dying
I may remember your outline, somewhat like a tread,
though height and width don’t determine if living.

*

Though height and width don’t deter mine, if living,
I may remember your out line, somewhat like a tread,
if I were learning about you while you were dying

knowledge, cloud, smoke or. Evaporating
me to make them out, follow if that’s ghost or dead.
Of your death, they are mind fog, never allowing.

Those multiplication tables delay my learning—
that twelve times eight is somewhere below one hundred—
I was learning while you were barely breathing.