when the morning comes I build you
   I build more

of you when the morning comes
                        I take you out

    behind the shade
      a little prayer rings  in/out/in

out I am building a home
    // a bed with my hands I hold

      peachlight / lampshade

                        (I am confined)

when sky fades
      through to reach me
             purple clouds drain

   what little I can mend    it happened
again   the glistening   

            (where does language fail me)

I come out
            of my cage / peony

blossoms

    (down down)

    do I tell you about
    my cheekbones

        under pressure   do I

tell you

it doesn’t hurt
     if it

doesn’t hurt

  or does it hurt
    even when

it doesn’t  

(what it means here)

(what it takes to hurt me
            if you are not me

        I can’t begin / I explain)

                        (small girl throws her body to the ground)

small girl
busts her lip

open

(hands cupped w/ blood)

where do all the girls come
                 where do they go

                                    (I was replaced)

w/ what

I bit into a a a gold plum / a version of my hand
/ always digging through the basket / pressing into

 where does this line form
            &
       am I in it

w/out my form

what do you make

of me

molds

multitudes

of color

where

                        do I fit

(am I shaped) (to fit) (anywhere)

(escape) (through tiny vessels) (my blood) (makes) (plans)

(we map) (an imaginary) (trip) (through the desert) (there) (are plums there) (as well)

(in the crowd) (do you feel) (lost or free) (is a question) (everyone seems to) (understand)

(is it cliché to) (indentify) (w/ others)

(another form) (of) (escape)

            (I remember) (learning) (how to tie) (my shoe but) (I wanted to pretend) (I couldn’t)

            (the teachers) (were passing out) (special attachments) (the song about) (a bunny)

            (I felt) (left out so I) (pretended) (I knew less) (than I did)

(what forms) (do I) (forget) (in order) (to be) (included)
(blend in) (she tells you) (you don’t want) (them to) (notice)

THREE VERY SMALL TREES
            OVER THERE LOOK
OUT

            OVER THERE THERE ARE THREE
                        VERY SMALL

GIRLS I SAID LOOK OUT

BETWEEN

YOU

LOOK UNDER / LOCK YR KNEES / STAND BACK

            I DID NOT TELL YOU TO COME OVER IT IS NOT TIME OR DARK
ENOUGH TO COME OVER I DID NOT INVITE YOU IN HERE IT IS NOT 
TIME OR DARK ENOUGH YET THE LAMPSHADE REALITY CONSTRUCTS MY
 VISUAL REALITY WHAT I SEE BECOMES WHAT IS THERE WHY ARE YOU
STANDING THERE IS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH IT IS NOT DARK YET
  I DID NOT INVITE YOU IN THIS CLIMATE I DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR
FOR THE ONES I KNOW I DID NOT TELL YOU IT WAS TIME

(three small trees)

   I built the moon w/ my naked

wrists there was too much
life left inside

still
there was too much

 life it was purple
 the color I recognized

like my pants there was too
much purple to hide in so I built

a tunnel through the wilderness I built a new
window to close for you I used my real hands

there was purple in my construction
but they told me it was cream

they told me not to speak
about the planets but especially

not the moon it is a bad idea
they told me & I am not sure why

I think it has to do w/ limitations
limitations that we must dress ourselves

up in in in order to look correct
I stapled my bones

I don’t look thin

(three little trees grow pigeons)

                        she tells me to leave

I never learned how
to listen to orders to know when
they are not joking I am serious
I am serious she said shaking her
hands on me

                                    (three spoonfuls seems appropriate)

   undiagnosed

w/ light disorder

                        feel around in the dark they
                        haven’t arrived yet

the door is cracked
meaning it is broken in
one place

 (do my decisions change me or) (is that just another way) (to) (boil water)

the pot is silver
   the pan is black

the bathwater

the bathwater

the door

            I DID NOT OPEN IT IS WAS CRACKED I MEAN BROKEN NOT

(three small trees shade us from)

(three small trees grow fruit on)

(three small trees)

when the morning comes I build you

I build more

of you

do not

hurt me

it doen’t

hurt

three

small girls

hold

hands they

build

shade from

three small

trees their

dresses

are purple

their hats

are

      OPEN THERE WAS A NOISE I HEARD IT RIGHT BEFORE BUT I DIDN’T THINK I COULDN’T THINK I WAS HEATING DINNER IT WAS SOUP I LEFT IT ON THE STOVE WHEN I HEARD THE NOISE IT WAS BOILING OVER IT WAS VEGETABLE THERE WAS EGGPLANT ON THE COUNTER I WAS CUTTING CIRCLES WITH MY ONE BIG KNIFE

before the incident
were you a
how do I say it
were you
how do I say it
seeing—

                        (three small trees they)                       

                        (three small trees shade the)

                        (three small trees block light from)

movement becomes verbal

       nonverbal is the only out from

inside the noise is swallowed

      do not say echo rt here

when what you mean is

        (hh)eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

inhale small moneygrams she sent from

   exotic location

picture of an island / is that where

       mound of feather blanket

say duvet w/ cheese sauce

     my yellow looks

I DID NOT

“SEE A LOT OF…”

  (whisper) (whisper) (looks)

when the morning comes I build you

there are words for this kind of love

some might say it was chosen

some might say it chooses

I never say a word

                the first time I saw her
                blood there was fire
                in me I was on fire
                w/ the unnameable
                hell my pale mop
                wanted to suck
                the color out
                of all that pain

on the floor

it slipped

through her

hands

clots

of her

in her

own hands

I grabbed

at them

w/ mine

                                    (must I explain myself to you again)

(three small girls watch the)

(three small girls pull at)

(three small girls wring their)

            IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANTED
            TO KNOW DOES THAT CLARIFY I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN DID YOU MEAN DID I OPEN IT NO CRACKED AS IN BROKEN THERE WAS A PROBLEM W/ THE LOCK I COULDN’T HEAR I WAS COOKING I WAS MAKING DINNER I WASN’T EXPECTING ANYONE IT WAS NOT TIME I WAS NOT WAITING FOR ANYONE I DID NOT INVITE I HAVE BEEN TRAINED IN CERTAIN WAYS I MEAN I KNOW BETTER I WAS MAKING DINNER I WAS ANSWERING THE DOOR BUT IT WAS CRACKED AS IN BROKEN NOT OPEN I WAS NOT WAITING FOR

       enough w/ feelings these are not
       important in this room the blocks
       frighten & impose themselves on
       wait I do remember the calluses
       while the work was done it was
       not exactly painful it was
       more like a removal of

                                                (it was dark out / there was no purpose)

they told me to disguise my insecurity w/

words this would help me to reimagine

myself as intellectual I would try to

talk softer & nod my head when others

spoke in ways I was taught

to believe they meant I was

only doing the right thing I was

earning my culture I was

entering a better space

a room where

                  three small girls
                  bite at their knees
                  pick at their sores
                  tics & fleas
                  seasonal allergies
                  immunize w/
                  pond water

(have you burned enough for love)

(I was building you a place to sleep)

(I was building you a better hand)

(w/ my nails I was tapping out )

(there were messages I was unable)

(to reach you sometimes)

(language barriers are not)

                                                                                    WHY DID YOU COME HERE
                                                                                    WHY DID YOU STAY

  “I have failure deep” “it is here can you see” “I don’t have much room but” “you can of course tell me the” “honest truth” “it was my father who taught me” “how to ride a bike” “it was my mother who taught me” “how to scream” “I leave myself to my own hands tonight” “in my guilt I watch” “my creation” “come to—

WHY DID YOU COME HERE IT IS NOT DARK ENOUGH I DID NOT INVITE YOU IT IS TOO EARLY I WAS NOT PLANNING ON THIS I WAS NOT READY FOR NEW COMPANY I WAS NOT READY TO LOSE MYSELF I WAS NOT

        (three small trees in the)
        (three small trees shed their)
        (three small trees begin to)

when the morning

comes I build you

I build more of

you I begin to wash

my hair I begin to

bite my nails w/

my hands I was

building you a

place to sleep

I was building you

what life I

thought you

wanted me

to be that

for you instead

I was building

                                                            there was firewood out back I saw her
                                                                run for it I saw her running past it

            it looked like she would take it all
            win the farm if that’s the way
            you say it I could
            never remember

                                                            there is a city 

                                    they say it

                                                                                                            was named

after

her

there

was

nothing

left

of

me

                                                I saw the clots in her falling from her & I put my mouth

where is the story
it is in the women
there are so many women
their mouths around
their daughters catching
fallen blood

  it wasn’t purple
  no I can’t
  be sure
  I was on fire
  I couldn’t
  see

                                                I will attempt
                                                            to explain it better though

                                                I have been told I am not
                                                                                    good at words

in the morning I wake up & she
is next to me in her bed she wants
to play I want to sleep
in the morning I build her
toast w/ butter or toast w/
honey & cinnamon or
oatmeal it’s up to her

in the morning I build her
a place on the couch or
in my arms but she won’t
stay long or very still

this is only my story there
are others sometimes
I feel there is a violence
in my love for her I want
to tell you the color but
the language is failing

there is no space for
living but there is space
or the feeling of space
in my body there was room
for her & now I can’t
remember how that felt

I can’t even explain the
pain of birth w/o drugs
I can’t remember enough to
tell you I loved her & I did
it for her but there is a
violence in this love

                                                                                    (three small trees we planted after)
                                                                                    (three small trees watched them grow)
                                                                                    (three small trees we try to build for)

        she tells me
 

            I DON’T REMEMBER ANYTHING AFTER THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR I WAS COOKING DINNER I HEARD A NOISE I WENT TO SAY WHO IS IT BUT THERE WAS A PROBLEM W/ THE LOCK IT PUSHED OPEN TO TOUCH I WAS ON THE FLOOR I WOKE UP ON THE FLOOR & THE WATER HAD BOILED OVER THERE WAS SMOKE FILLING THE ROOM I WOKE UP THE ALARM WAS SO LOUD & CONFUSING THE MAN ASKED ME HOW MANY MEN I WAS SEEING I WAS CONFUSED I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER OR WHAT HE MEANT

              it’s simple procedure what I asked it’s simple
              procedure I only meant are there any
              that may want to hurt you in this way

AS IF I COULD UNDERSTAND & IT WAS MY JOB TO

            she became unreasonably angry I was doing my job
            when I restrained her

in the morning I build you
a space in my center for
rest & I build you a space
to place your
pain I don’t know when
I got used to
seeing you bleed

I walk around the house waiting
for someone to love me I am weightless
or weighted down everything pulls
me closer to the floor

                        (in the first edition we walked to the park)
                        (the blossoms were pink & they took us over)
                        (the swell reaches us before we have the time to even swim)

  “in the forest the girls” “they wore helmets” “what struck them down” “is the same”
            “every girl knows” “the answer”

“your letters arrived” “I forgot” “people still write & it was comforting” “to begin”
            “in a space” “foreign & familiar” “I” “became a mountain of” “my former self”

they told me there needed to

be a story I should make

sense in order to feel

one must know one’s

surroundings

I told them

I do

                        I AM NEVER ALONE NOT ALONE LIKE BEFORE THERE IS
ALWAYS A NOISE BEHIND ME I CANNOT EVER NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN I
CAN NEVER BE EMPTY THERE IS A DARK SPACE I BUILT FOR MYSELF & I
HOLD IT THERE &

the restriction to be oneself is not one we can hide from I recognize this in my sadness in my grief I recognize this in my searching in my loss in my wander I recognize this in my brittle nails my tender abdomen I turn on my side to ease the cramping I turn on my side to see if it pleases

there is slick skin regaining velocity

I am here & beginning to call out

to friends I am alone in this city

except for two vital growths

that breathe through me in the morning

(I build you I build this space for you

I build a tiny apartment w/ you we have

no cats)

hurricane season lasts

a long time there are many

reasons to avoid time

alone together but we

have to do something we

are breaking apart a part

from each other the wind

is not very strong here

there are many reasons to

postpone a trip but

there are ways we are jealous

of the other & I don’t

know how to explain this

in words

                           I NEVER WANT TO FEEL AGAIN I CAN’T STOP BEGINNING TO

I push out

the noise

of the day

& it becomes

mine

I hold it

in my three

small

hands

if I become

insane

how

will that look

I step out

of the window

to be closer

to the sky

in between

the traffic

& air

I am not

blue but

am wearing

a blue

shirt

it has no sleeves

you open

the window for

me to come

back

inside

how many

brea/kdowns

can we

survive

in the morning I build you

            I build
                       more of you

present this glowing orb pulled
     out w/ the after

       cute as fuck

he looked me in the eyes while
he passed me on
the street my black skirt
my white keds

                                    (when the morning comes I build you)

there are four floors we live
on top there is a roof
we are not allowed on
it’s probably
for the best

                                                (when the morning comes I eat the moon)

                  the violence found in everything
                  & also language
                  cute as Fuck

(three small girls they)
(three small girls braid their)
(three small girls share a)

            “in the envelope” “there was a drawing” “a brown paper bag w/” “a black marker-ed circle” “I didn’t understand” “there was no note” “I put it in my desk drawer” “I thought about healing” “thought about my women” “my friends” “about the shells” “if they released them” “back to the sea” “what does that mean” “for the rest of us”

Alexis Pope is the author of Soft Threat (Coconut Books, 2014), as well as three chapbooks. Recent work has appeared in Bat City Review, Denver Quarterly, Poor Claudia, Powderkeg, and The Volta, among others. Pope currently lives in Chicago.