Ghosting; not as in disappearing

if this were five years ago, I’d be at work today

playing through pain

making meaning.

if this were four years ago, I’d be at work today

pulling rabbits out of any hat

masking wounds with enough magic

to keep us all wonder eyed.

if this were three years ago,

I’d be spinning out of trees

tipping over roots

and landing on my feet.

Everyone remembers when you stick the landing so well that details blur

apart from how you pulled your way

out of some ghastly depth.

The pulling

and the blurring

are as violent as they sound.

If this were two years ago

pulling would remove a curtain.

Bottoms fall out, and ceilings crack.

Partitions fall

and with them

notions of working unchanged.

If this were one year ago,

ghosts would be here

nagging my body

with its own feelings.

If this were today, I’d know those ghosts better.

I’d be awake at two am.

I wouldn’t work unchanged.

I wouldn’t conflate landing on my feet

with meanings

of grander intention.

I’d hear a voice ask me to sing

twinkle twinkle,

and I’d move towards her.

If this were…

I’d here playing over the words

You don’t want to scream

the question,

whats the next song?

I’d pause on the words;

everything would make me cry.