phaethon rewound

he dreams young --

twist and sharpen the sky,
faint shards for luck. the ashen wind.
words born from dust, ready to grow mouths,
pinned where the waiting blues.
he spears the moon
and halts it in.
sun shackled, clouds poke in ears,
      they say We can make you forget
      he says Not now
spits
that his hand isn't held.

she lashed her tongue
but he couldn't understand gravity, only feel it,
his boots, his teeth.
the astronaut food beckons.
     she asks Where I put the hands
in the sink, in the vase, child. there's a shawl
somewhere, will you --

ears and eyes shutter to the decayed refrain
of clark gable movies.
     all the i'll miss you's in the world
     and I couldn't find one right to say to you.

that noon,
the indifferent wind battered loud
on doors,
and the fierce tape
on the digital clocks
held tight.