dog heaven
the mountains make a bowl
of this city for the sun
to pour into and exhaust us.
even this constant itch
clings tiredly as i watch
another plane take off
from my perch in the desert
plain of your parking lot,
dry heat like plastic
trapping smog around my limbs.
we drive south, the light
tingeing everything like
super 8 film. you sing along
to the cure and in my head
we are already in the deep end
of your parents’ swimming pool
lit up like a blue gemstone
or the huge blank page of their bed
with the cleanest sheets
where i sink through twelve years
layered on your body like tree rings.
your dog cries if he doesn’t
get to watch you leave.
like where’d you go? my needs
are simple as an animal’s
at the core. the same lack
of object permanence. they simmer
if left inside too long,
cloying and sticky like valley heat.
of this city for the sun
to pour into and exhaust us.
even this constant itch
clings tiredly as i watch
another plane take off
from my perch in the desert
plain of your parking lot,
dry heat like plastic
trapping smog around my limbs.
we drive south, the light
tingeing everything like
super 8 film. you sing along
to the cure and in my head
we are already in the deep end
of your parents’ swimming pool
lit up like a blue gemstone
or the huge blank page of their bed
with the cleanest sheets
where i sink through twelve years
layered on your body like tree rings.
your dog cries if he doesn’t
get to watch you leave.
like where’d you go? my needs
are simple as an animal’s
at the core. the same lack
of object permanence. they simmer
if left inside too long,
cloying and sticky like valley heat.
sunsick
after two nights at your place, i come home to clean my room.
instead i make a sandwich, then stand in front of the A/C
in blood-stained boxer briefs, an ice-cold jam jar to my neck.
in the lukewarm shower, i take the nozzle in my hand,
thinking realities are better than fantasies because
you can smell them
but in fantasies everyone does just as you say. i'm not
heartless, just a control freak in ways that aren't
immediately evident. thoughts are hard
to un-hear when they're determined to eat you,
no matter what therapy-worksheet phrases you repeat. maybe
finding comfort just means taking the same walks
until you know them by heart. four blocks for coffee,
three mornings in a row, before you're up.
sun pressing into my back through the black cloth of your shirt.
instead i make a sandwich, then stand in front of the A/C
in blood-stained boxer briefs, an ice-cold jam jar to my neck.
in the lukewarm shower, i take the nozzle in my hand,
thinking realities are better than fantasies because
you can smell them
but in fantasies everyone does just as you say. i'm not
heartless, just a control freak in ways that aren't
immediately evident. thoughts are hard
to un-hear when they're determined to eat you,
no matter what therapy-worksheet phrases you repeat. maybe
finding comfort just means taking the same walks
until you know them by heart. four blocks for coffee,
three mornings in a row, before you're up.
sun pressing into my back through the black cloth of your shirt.
fire warning
the air dries me out like a red leaf.
setting me off is easy:
toss a cigarette butt
on a mountain trail
at the end of summer
into that dead brush waiting
to swallow a spark,
engulf itself, take all
the trees and houses with it.
aspiring for a steady heart seems pointless
when it takes all the effort i’m worth
to keep my danger level in the yellow.
half moon hangs above the smoke.
i’m waxing too, swollen
almost—upswing heart waiting
for the second gravity frees me.
setting me off is easy:
toss a cigarette butt
on a mountain trail
at the end of summer
into that dead brush waiting
to swallow a spark,
engulf itself, take all
the trees and houses with it.
aspiring for a steady heart seems pointless
when it takes all the effort i’m worth
to keep my danger level in the yellow.
half moon hangs above the smoke.
i’m waxing too, swollen
almost—upswing heart waiting
for the second gravity frees me.
other worlds
my apartment complex sprawls out
so that walking through it,
the buildings are like two mirrors
facing each other and repeating themselves
i can walk out one entrance and down the street
and pass a different complex
before finding another entrance
to my own on the next block,
run past the endless rows of cars and back inside.
inside, my nightlight projects a moon and stars
a little universe i can turn on with my hand
that lines the walls and ceiling to protect me
the moon is beautiful, but it is terrifying
to walk alone at night
it is nice to have a moon of my own
in my childhood bedroom from another reality
the safety in smallness, precious as any color in the sky
so that walking through it,
the buildings are like two mirrors
facing each other and repeating themselves
i can walk out one entrance and down the street
and pass a different complex
before finding another entrance
to my own on the next block,
run past the endless rows of cars and back inside.
inside, my nightlight projects a moon and stars
a little universe i can turn on with my hand
that lines the walls and ceiling to protect me
the moon is beautiful, but it is terrifying
to walk alone at night
it is nice to have a moon of my own
in my childhood bedroom from another reality
the safety in smallness, precious as any color in the sky
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ELLIOTT SKY CASE is an LA native and San Jose newbie after a four-year stint at UCSC. Their work has appeared in Voicemail Poems, as well as two self-released zines, get home safe and dog star. Elliott is a Virgo sun/Libra moon and married to the sunset. You can find their writing at elliottskycase.tumblr.com and their bad Twitter jokes at @coolangstydad.
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