Voicemail Poems

I have spent a thousand years picking myself out of the middle of nowhere on an empty highway clutching fistfuls of fireflies to my eyes clawing poppy blossoms across a belly full of rabbits I dripped with peppercorns I salted the earth as if that would make the mud easier to swallow I buried the creatures with a pocket watch and a dead fish and mounds rose up the hills of my body a congregation of sparrows sang like nightingales as if that would bring me peace my ghost is mad Ophelia babbling in swampflower poltergeisting the highways and waiting for the next thud wooden dolls slapped out of my hands brings me walnut shells to curl into like that could keep me safe from waking up again in the cheekbone curve of a boy who does not know the difference between a raven and a writing desk between I’m sorry and