Two Poems

Re-boot

What if my subconscious
had its own facebook page

would the timeline be
cluttered with posts
saying "content unavailable"

would the darkest photos
purge themselves
every night during sleep

would it hide
the profiles of people
from my formative years
I don't want to recognize

would it start its own podcast
without my permission
and start saying things
I've never said out loud

would someone report it
for indecent exposure of
the hippocampus

would it tag me in a post
and run video after video
of my broken rag doll self
in first grade

would it make my cover photo
a mirror
where I am brushing my long hair
and painting myself backwards

 

Pet Tarantula

I don't remember the day it arrived
or even
the day it disappeared

but I do remember
the way it crept up
my father's forearm

the way it hesitated
knowing the smell of danger

the dog always ran
into another room
when my father
let it out of the terrarium

I didn't understand
why he smiled so wide
when those eight legs were free

how he set aside the booze
for the small moments
when the arachnid
became his only beast

when I went to bed
I often wondered
why I couldn't
set my own legs free
the two of them stuck together
as if in a burlap sack

even today
when I sleep in my damp sheets
I feel the familiar creep
up my leg

I can't forget
how he told us
tarantulas can't close their eyes
because they have no lids