An Exit Strategy / Vines, Tangled with Frost by John Sweet

an exit strategy 

the factory on fire, the ladder

to heaven, the sunlight

and all of them lies

the stars at midnight instead,

five below zero at the end of january

and the animals in this room with their

failed attempts at language

the smell of gasoline

the absence of humanity

i have embraced it for reasons

that remain my own

i have imagined an ending to the

story in which all pain is

fleeting and easily discarded

have grown tired of swallowing

poison but

can’t seem to give it up

can’t seem to call this house home

even after painting its walls

with my blood

can’t make these words explain 

the things i need them to

vines, tangled with frost 

no fear because you’re pretty

sure it’s a dream, this silence, 

this late afternoon room with

the shadows of trees climbing

the walls, dust caught in sunlight,

child facedown on the bed you

sit at the foot of, your oldest

son, crying softly, dying, which

is a weight left unspoken, air

thick with the taste of metal,

of sweat, of the fear you

thought was missing, and you

can’t get warm enough and

you have no words

you wake up lost

in an empty house

sound of ragged breathing

John Sweet writes from the vast deserts of upstate New York.  Recent collections include Approximate Wilderness (Flutter Press) and Heathen Tongue (Kendra Steiner Editions).  Most of the truths about his life can be found in his writing.