4:56 a.m. train filled with yesterdays, tomorrows, days after and before. I look in my empty suitcase. I wait hunted by memories of me.
“Forget yourself,” he said, pushing record on a tape player. He films deliberate, unrehearsed, unpracticed, unconditioned wrong dream. (And to think that you could recreate it ad-infinitum!)
Listen to the structure fall apart….
d
r
o
p
roll
in
SPAces
we OCcupy:
KITchen,
bED,
HALLway,
HANds
Pretend it makes no difference if I look away.
He captures you in the kitchen, It is just a
memory. Symbolic of everything that will
fade. This is how we pass, like we weren’
even here.
It is now. Red-rock landscapes. Yet
already, you fight. Look into the camera.
Start from: ‘you keep saying this wood is him.
Common word for something.
You filming me sing: “take away the
dessert, the rocks, but not the snow from
me. Take away the sky,” I yelled against
the wind. He said nothing back except,
"Once again, nothing changed. I wish I
could belong."
The silence.
The moment,
Remains.
I wept.
I wanted.
His hands.
Stil.
My breasts.
Ye
Already.
Years together.
This is not just another way to to explain how
I endure wave after wave. I cannot look
away from us. To outline why I still gaze,
still sail, still drift. He’s unpredictable.
When I was brave ‘don’t fence me in’ was
my song. Now I live on one thought, one
human being. Milk and honey. The
thought is, on another side, too sour...our
" connection” is just a word. Which word?
Place me on your tongue. Realize a human
being is me, a me, the me, in relation to
you. My fingers trying always trying,
beating: A lifetime spent to define me, to
create a mark, which is nothing, but the
murmur of cottonwood trees.
“Wake to the thin moment between tenses
of mind.”
“Eat me up or grow up and blow away.”
