Mary Helen Porter

my mind is your cairn that you collected and built

the height is measured by can’ts and shouldn’ts

i thinks and i believes

(it’s all bs if you ask me)

why should one say pebbles are boulders? and dreams

aren’t things.

my mouth fills with zounds and caramel popcorn.

where we sat and whistled through acorn hats.

the swing set held our weight(wait),

so why not try for another

walk through the dying, (yellow, red, blue), green trees. i think

we could be kings, you and me. lend me

a cannon ball to tear down

your cairn. to erase my zounds. to fold my left around my right.

to not fold yours. to promise i’m not okay

and to except that you are.

we could be kings. i think i might say it once more,

but my tongue is

twisted around hot balloon air that burns

my vocal chords silent. i should keep quiet. i should pull my maroon coat

a little closer, pull his hat down, (keep my head to myself),

forget about warmth,

forget about the cannon ball

forget about fall.