We All Looked Back

And it was salt pressed
into the skin beneath our eyes

And of course we wanted to know,
see if the world had changed

in that tiny moment we blinked
and tomorrow evaporated.

In the newest version, we’re told to ignore the notifications
on phones holding our souls hostage, so we say goodnight

to our flesh,

dream of what could be
if only
fingers pretended eyes, and we pointed

where we’ve already been.

 

Practice Dying

day one I welcome you to class to learn
the approved method

for dying
because, I’ve been told, it’s not if but when

and when he comes

around the corner, his rifle carving lifetimes
from the hallway, the first step

is run, to Forrest Gump this shit as far as you can fucking go

take notes

I’ve been told there will be a test.

but if running will only transform us to corpses, block the door

with all the homework you wish you’ll be able to complete
someday

with tables and chairs, desks, see this computer right here? yeah
throw that right there, too, and imagine your personal narrative essay file
shouldering the door no matter how many typos or comma-splices in its
weighty pockets

unnecessary adjectives might make all the difference,
pixels greater when stacked against ammunition

the largest one of you
can be an object of protection

look around, take note of the one most likely to absorb a bullet

I’ve been told that’s a test, too, even if I don’t know who’s being tested the most.

and when he breaks
through

know that transitions, at just the right place, can turn us with you, can round

the corner, and maybe, yes, we’ll all have one more breath.