Must I ask for empathy?
Tears catch attention, reflecting away lightness.
Questions stated that I must respond to:
Would I like some space?
Would I like food or water?
Would I like a hug?
Comfort in the physical sense,
Emotionally abandoned.
Tears catch attention, reflecting away lightness.
Questions stated that I must respond to:
Would I like some space?
Would I like food or water?
Would I like a hug?
Comfort in the physical sense,
Emotionally abandoned.
I’m still angry, a month later.
When I see you,
my shoulders still draw into clenched balls of muscle,
an anvil plummets into the pit of my stomach,
I’m struck with the kind of helplessness that wracks my legs with trembling.
I imagine plunging a knife into my side,
dropping it on the ground with a smirk,
and finally collapsing into the heap of hurt and humiliation
from this deep ache you forged in me.
Golden boy has golden teeth
It’s alright that it hurts.
Let me say that again-
It’s alright that it hurts this much.
We are not lesser for grieving that which should be grieved,
for it taking as long it takes.
—
I’ve been watching ants
moving their babies into my mailbox before a storm.
Every time it rains they do this
faithfully.
They sense what’s coming
do what they can do
without despair,
together.
—
Would you hold my hand,
let me hold yours?
Perhaps we can carry this together.
Find our way to the other side of the storm.
It’s alright that it hurts.
It’s alright that it hurts this much.
Sometimes, the best act of love is to wander.
No expectation of where to go, when to be there, who to meet up with;
just drifting through the day, driven by your own decisions.
Go where you want, do what you want, see, hear, smell, taste the world through your mind’s eye instead of another’s.
They were onto something when they decided to wander lonely as a cloud
and take the roads less traveled by, for when one carries on with the weight of one’s soul
you find the pieces never found in the midst of others’ noise.
(Inspired by Wordsworth, Frost, and my own sojourn of the day.)
The radar shows the downpour
will end in five minutes,
eight of us stand on the veranda
of the brewery
waiting for it to let up
before we resume our cornhole competition,
this is a game of slanted boards, beanbags
measured distance,
sacred rules and cash prizes.
Without apparent reason the screen
switches to the news
with video of a war bombing
followed by a frame of a frantic man
holding what could be a lifeless child,
he holds his arms out
as if giving us a gift.
Someone curses
and grabs the remote
to switch it back to the weather.
When the rain stops
we stomp down the steps
to the cornhole pit.
Noone seems to want to pick up
a beanbag
Falling
Bleak, desperate
Grappling, numbing, sinking
Sleep, hunger, silence, ache
Regressing, withdrawing, breaking
Fragile, distant
Hope
Note: transalate findings from the audio
Find what it invokes
Does it accelerate the subject’s heartbeat
What color was the hardwood
Were there crumbs in the rug
Evaluate the bassline
Hear it drum off the futon
Observe vibrations in subject’s juicebox
Is the rhythm steady
Is that fear or condensation
Note: copy images from the television static
One windmill on a flying mountain
Dangling ankles over the side of the cliff
Ukelele strings and carpet bangs
Pay special attention to electricity
Throughout the cabinet
Ghosts cackle through a hot sixteen
Cartoon goons lounge in a dark room
Note: subject’s legs cross together
Neck cranes upward
Pupils widen in wonder
Hands fall politely in lap
Perhaps for the first time they feel small
Perhaps for the last time they will be
This is what I need to say
to you: I will always love you
and—
I love you. I know you
can figure out
the rest.
