b7e9260585815d324f4850ebd699eaf3In my head
there’s a record on a turn table glossy and black
when it gets to certain grooves I recognize the play of needle over vinyl and each crackle is a familiar passage through well-worn emotion
I turn everything on to create loudness
to expunge what I hear by drowning out
the washing machine, the dish washer, the blender, the coffee grinder, the lawn mower, the radio, the alarm clock, the hair dryer
I run the bath, I run the shower, I run the sprinkler, I run the garbage disposal, I run away from the song
It has one word going round and round
one face, one memory, two memories, a thousand
a wrist with a silver bracelet on, flung in sleep against burgundy sheet
every time you brushed the hair away from my eye, every squeeze of our fingers captured, every kiss, every smile, every year I see the wave of loss it is not so far beyond turbulence
today the clouds will not clear, I get in the car, I tune to the loudest song, I scream as I drive, years burning my eyes, straining to see through my own download
If I had a name for it that name would be wreckage, ruin, destruction, destroyed, unplug  me, burn it out, scold,  defeat, disintegrate, desolate, muted, drowning and burning at once
I would be a legion of black horses sweating sorrow
I would be a night never turning into tomorrow
I would be a shroud worse than death for the one glimmer
that hurts the worst and makes you hold your breath ever deeper
a chain, a spike, a hammer, a knife
and all I felt was love
and all I wanted was you
and all I am is nothing
It plays round and round
like two hands cupping sound
no amount of running or noise can disturb
the undead heart