how to meet the hat man
sleep fitfully on the sofa
your back to to door
plagued by dreams of moths
in a house of illness
sleep until his deep voice wakes you
and you cannot move.
“excuse me, ma’am?”
his tall frame curls into the corner
his neck cranes, hat scrapes the ceiling
no light reflects from his face or hands
featureless as a shadow
he watches though the night
and you cannot move.
“i’ll be right here if you need anything.”
when i was a skeleton
i had not the foresight
to fashion a skin for myself
from discarded trash and tarps
the ache whistled through my ribs
my bones dried in the winter air
withering once whitehot marrow
into frozen despair
cold medicine blues
the dogbody of midnight
sweeps past
my ankles
i wake
on the
shitter
