Start by lighting a match and hold it to your throat in the hopes
that all the unwanted words will burn and rise, flaming, to the roof
of your mouth, where you can vomit them out like the ashes they are.
No more self-pity, like a dog counting its ribs.
Drive out to the side of the road where the fog envelops you so thickly
that you must continue forward out of blind faith;
open your mouth, let the fog seep into your lungs and replace
the old whispers. Hold a stone in your mouth and let it grow
smooth with the whorls of your tongue as you practice
keeping the unnecessary things inside instead of letting them out.
This stone is like the pit of an apricot, and after it lays itself bare,
flesh will grow around it and keep it safe.
When you love someone and regret that love,
trace the pathway from your house to theirs and count the steps.
Then find someone else’s house that takes the exact same
number of steps to get to and mark your territory on their lawn
by leaving a lily pad there as a gift. Victorian water lilies
are able to hold up to seventy pounds of weight
on their thin green leaves. You must understand
that what stretches will not always break.
Then leave their lawn and walk away.
While you sleep tonight, the weight of your thoughts will
transfer themselves to the lily pad
and you will no longer be heavy with what could have been.