after Michael Lin
Each house curves a may-open story if you follow his way. Do not open any free doors. We all pitch all touch up. No history screaming, no yelling. Some days each empty family to get familiar, to get large. Under the blue pattern, a specific parameter. Only within my limits, our glazed family under spotlights. I place myself in the pattern of protection. My brother bright and bent over each small man, kiss belly and grip, each whisky put off to sea. I dreamed the door came
open in my hand, dream you opened my hand, back rose in air, no limit to our small men empty, your back free of payments, your brother in the doorway, grew teeth in the dawn.
Originally published in Better Magazine