Posts for June 2, 2023 (page 3)

I paint upon my face
school spirit for a school
I’ve been to once or twice,
a school I didn’t go to,
a school’s morals I don’t approve,
with people I don’t fit in with.
it’s these people I have chosen
to spend the whole day with,
it’s these very people,
I plan to try hard and impress.

my life led me to this moment
(though that is true for all things).
I learned to paint this spirit
on my face from instagram,
from watching all my peers
bypass me in fun and cheer.
I watch this fun life way,
this life they all live proud,
while I am stuck at home,
stuck with all my villains
who wreck me to my core.
villains who I take
and keep them safe inside.
and safer still, the truth I keep,
the truth from myself I hide,
The truth about who it is
who is really hurting me.

everything I learned
was through a smartphone screen.
This life of paper lies
is missing a crucial point:
essential to this process
is group work with your loved ones—
or at least your neighbors in math class.

I don’t have the proper tools
so I have to innovate.
eyeliner melts off my cheek
as I bounce and jolt in a void
of cackles and giggles and heat and
I grow dizzy from this endless cycle,
this hamster wheel of grass and sky.
the metal seats burn as I push them down to sit
in them, while bees and wasps flit about the fence.

I scream and shout to cheer
all to no avail.
I scream and shout to fit in
somewhere that’s not real.
This happiness I made up
that all these people occupy,
this happiness I will never reach,
the idea of which hurts me, true and tried.

I fear that everyone can see through
this verisimilitude, glinting
like rhinestone clips from Claire’s,
this cheap and hasty act
of normalcy and calm,
of reliving experiences
I Certainly Have Had,
all of these Real Memories
of events that are old hat.

As much as I fear
to be seen through by these people,
none of them could care
less about the real me.
But I fear more to be
left all alone.

the baloney salad sits
two tables away
right beside Mamaw’s
cole slaw
the one she makes with
onions
never mind people don’t
really like it
they eat it anyway,
scooping it out
with a slotted spoon 
realizing, probably
that’s the one thing
they’ll remember
when we can’t even
find the odd air fryer 
at a yard sale 
anymore

Landing on late shift,
I produce poems at dusk
sunrise can’t explain.

2: Leech (Hiron Ennes)

on the coldest night of the year, stayed

up to read and play pretend at being an

at-the-end-of-their-rope minor nobility

from the middle of bum-fuck, so deep

in downers that the earth becomes me.

in her infinity and ice-woven loam,

she is the host i’ll be a bad host on.

host my skin i hate host my kids i hate host my most hated gut biota.

‘stuck in a rut’s’ too real when you have dirt up to your ears.

though in return,

          (though there’s no ‘return,’ for there’s no leaving)

i’ll skin the earth right back.

coldest night of the year.

next morning,

the spare key froze to its hiding spot.

had to use a hair dryer to get in.

earth-host holds me until i stop

clawing rabid at the night sky.

Xe is an exuberance
vine and leaf and node and green and
                                                                          reach
Golden Pothos, or 
Xyr Unspeakable Lightness, one Rue ThaDay
Long may Xe reign

Xe knows what it is to 
                                            grasp
to carry 
the holy dapple of noonlight through the canopy forest
so far from home that 
the rain is not but
half-remembered and poorly-brought by 
The Grieving Widow, 

they are forgiven. Of course they are forgiven. They are, always for

Rue knows only magnanimity, 
                                                        inimitably.
Xe is no stranger to wilt and pestilence and time. 

to not
enough
light 

Xe understands what The Widow cannot.
yet.  
        cannot yet.

cannot yet realize that since they are holding these: 
        a quasar 
        a star
Impossible Tragedy and Unbearable Transcendence 

in just 
one 
hand.

the other is left free, outstretched west toward the sun.

Somewhere in time
You’ll have the best
Day and a half old
Shitty-ass cup of Speedway coffee, 
When you’re on your way 
To a place you now call home
Coming back from the best trip of your life yet-
With the love of your life, 
And it’s 2am–
nothing could be more perfect 
until you step outside…
like magic it starts to snow.

Those, are the best coffees
You’ll ever have in your life. 

And you’ll sit in bed, 
While you write about them someday
With your husband, as he brings you snacks
Before Golden Girls 

And you’ll remind him of that 2am pour, 
down at the Speedway….
as you kiss him goodnight. 

See me in the way you walk,
the way I do. 

Then, you’ll understand why I “care too much”.

& suddenly, my grief left—-
she opened the door & stepped
into the dawn, forgetting to shut it behind her

all my past lovers flew back into my arms
& my mother was resurrected,
everything slowed

but the doves stopped cooing.
maybe their new beauty stunted song,
maybe they preferred their old name

as a child, i didn’t know their grief
& now that i do, who am i to strip them of it
as we all swim against the tide of endless mourning

There is a road with many turns.

It leads from one place to the next,

Just like all the other roads I have driven on.

The skies are filled with grey clouds today,

Even though it’s not supposed to rain.

 Every once in a while, I see dark lines on the asphalt,

Where it had cracked and been repaired before.

Even though I know the road,

Even though I know my destination,

I don’t dare put down my map,

Because every time I drive down that road, I have this feeling.

This sense that even though I’m only an hour from home,

And my destination is only an hour away,

I could drive forever, through the middle of nowhere.

I still know I’m moving forward,

Because of the things I see disappearing behind me,

Through a window that seems somehow too clean here.

And of course, the sign.

The sign next to the road, beside one of the bends.

Anyone who’s driven past it as much as I have could recognize it.

It’s supposed to be an ad for some shop.

It’s a massive billboard, and the words are on massive posters,

That’s just glued on the front and back alike.

I know that because the poster is starting to peel off.

The metal rod holding it up has begun to rust.

“Stop bye Jeffrey’s burgers and ice cream,” the faded letters say.

It isn’t much, but I always like seeing it.

It marks the halfway point,

Its oldness reminds me of all those other people who have driven down the road before.

It was the only place where I’m willing to look up from my map,

And today I am all alone.

Every time I saw the sign, I thought the same thing,

“They used the wrong by.”

Not that that was a surprise, really.

Listen to the news
Water is a way to change
Stay within the range.