June 21, around five in the morning.

The sun was rising. Birds had been chirping merrily for some hours now, in that summer way that carries their song as an unintended celebration of the new day; they were just enjoying themselves, chattering.

Pressed against the front door, my hand on the handle, draped there, strength gone from my arm, eyes heavy – my whole body heavy in fact – a return to the physical a kind of hyperawareness of my body, my limbs like lead, my head heavy, like a sickness, sound too loud, the darkness to bright, sensation crawling along your arms as even the slightest brush of air touches the hair, running fingers, a first lover running a finger up your leg and that crawling tickle of new flesh untouched, private.

I wanted to get outside more than anything. The door was locked, I felt trapped again. The Monster was behind me, in the living room, crouched tight, cloak dangling thick from his arched back, eyes glaring, black stuff surrounding him, whether the edges of our own world pulled tight around him or the stuff of the other world seeping inside, a black pollution, leaking through the cracks, bad energy, the bitter stuff of nightmares and domestic violence, stuff of revelation, a distant sight cleared to the past, war, violence, competition and overcoming, revolution, or the future, entropy, inevitable death, decay, divorce, but the peace with death, the security that you exist here,

now.

Teardrops from the eyes, emotion become physical,

my mom staring sightlessly, reaching out, running for salvation, decay, bad to worse, but a savior.

Perspective is with the eyes, sweet distant sight, mediums, instruments,

Windows.

.

I get it.

You look in and you press it into a ball and you study the gunk across your hands. The Monster, there in the corner, hidden, watching, the shadows staring,

Dig deep to pity, grieve, open doors and turn to the night. Take faith and throw it away, self esteem shot, a belief fading,

lost,

An invitation for those things in the night. And so the electricity wavered, echoes of manifestation drawing across a bridge, nightmares pressed deep, home invaders, images of something generally unseen.

Finally the door handle sagged in my grasp, putting my weight beneath it, the latch opening just enough so that I could pull the door open before me.

A cool breeze blew through the opening to match the humidity filling thick behind me.

Push forward, legs be strong, stumble into the entryway, hold tight to the walls for support, despite my arms’ best efforts sagging and weak.

The grass felt cool against my skin, a pleasant tickle for some reason not overwhelming, cool, the hint of dew smearing my clothes and hands. I pressed it to my face and breathed deep.

The sky had lightened, preparing for the sunrise, a dull glow in the east, a flame licking the underside of the wood, kindling smoldering. The mountains had turned that majestic color famous to Colorado, a soft magenta, a purple taking second stage. The sky above, a flat navy blue, coming around to the dawn like a slumbering high school student – only if forced, the color of the sky on a night of a full moon.

Burst aflame, coax the embers, a fire of another kind.

Take a match to the edges of your fabric, watch a doorway smolder, a hole, a tear

drop below and see, underneath what you know, the black edges turn hard and curl, a melted plastic, mechanical inter-workings, last night.

But this morning the sky alights, a combustion in full view, not hidden, a hand of God, a touch, good morning,

My mother comes into my room to rouse me for school, a cool knuckle across my forehead, I murmur, acknowledging but refusing to act,

“Come on, Katie-girl. It’s time to meet the day.”

Touch shadows too, the trees and buildings, cast black distances, mountains, pull the covers overhead, burrow deep.

“I know you’re under there. Take your time. I’ll be downstairs getting breakfast ready.”

.

The sky alights, a red, an orange, give way, lay the carpet and announce an awakening, resurrection,

A natural necromancy,

The birds chirp,

Revisit, relinquish, let go.

.

Sun touch the horizon, a reversal, a rising, defy the laws, ascend, a moment stretches, a red orb rising, the sky erupts, oozes, the world at that point between sky and land,

Inverse, stand on your head and look out, sink sun into a clear ground, spaceless, legs dangle, fall,

To one side, the past, to the other, the future, a roadway running, a single star rests, stand still, fall

Fall

Fall

The space at the horizon, shred, a gap, see into the gap, blind eyes, you’re not supposed to look but it’s there to see.

There’s a power on the other side, a distance graspable, shred night sky and take a place in your own,

There is no sun, there’s only a hole giving glimpse,

An eyeball watching, a burn in a knob, turn the key and

Fall.

Throw my arms wide and

Fall.

Feel the heat from the other world singe, run across your face, the earth tilts, lean, too far, too hot, the sun bursts, flames lap, reach,

Fall.

Lean too far forward and tumble,

Unfurl, glare, a thousand eyes exploding, a million, burning, touch, singe,

The trees on one side in white, the other side in black,

Sing. Sing. Sing

And then it

.

Stops.

.

A glaze of white. A snowfall on a bright January day. A beach at midsummer. White burst, stark,

Blind.

Send the world dark, blind eyes and white, no comparison, no ratio, they are the same.

.

Break the world open and see. From the white, the image of a tree, grows like tar bubbling from the earth, filling in the cracks, branches bloom, details creep to the surface, first the small rises, gradual changes, filling deeper, sculpting.

Blossom deep, cast a shadow, horizon then, sky, roots spread and grip the ground tight, curvature and steep,

fall

The earth tilts, hovers, pinwheel arms, balance sought

Balance.

Swing back, reversal,

.

STOP.

STOP.

The earth stops, turns backward,

Fall, spiral back, drifting in an orbit far above, seeing far above,

Fall up, eyes peppering like millions of stars. Gaze, watch.

.

Come back to Earth, screaming against grass, tears, singing, souvenirs.

A man in black is standing, watching me from next to a tree, his body lingering on the other side of the trunk.

He nods.

I blink.

And he’s gone.