remember the nights when we were just like this
and i couldn't breath from holding my breath in my chest
beating like a drum like a rain dance like clapping thunderclouds
and no rain came
remember the nights that you never told me about
and i sat in the dark
the rug sparking around my feet like a tiny storm of commets
falling in the blackness behind my open eyes
and i sat
remember the nights when i called and left messages
that you never heard under the clamor
of voices and promises and tipping chins and screams
that i could not give voice to
in thirty seconds after a mechanical beep
so i said nothing
remember the nights when i waited and waited for the shower
and heat mixed with cold pounding drops
on my back and my knotted head of hair from shaking my head
no over and over in your eyes in my head
but i meant it
remember the nights like a spilled glass of water
i slipped from myself spilled out myself on the floor
unvacuumed for weeks, the dust settling in the emptiness
of your voice and
oh so many
poems about emptiness
and shit that happens
but really doesn't
but it feels like it
happens
and hurt this much
i'm exaggerating for no reason
except for to give reason
to the sick i feel
growing like a
living, breathing
lump
in my large intestines
and any other organs
that i can remember from
middle school.
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1 comment:
this poem is very sad. for some reason, i think it feels very lonely, which is interesting when you consider the voice that it is written in. its voice is conversational; addressed to someone who is present and listening, which doesn't sugguest loneliness as strongly as the content of the poem does. but the act of remniscience and remembering is sometimes so solitary and lonesome that it requires an artificial, fabricated listener. the invention of this imaginary recipient can add a lot of tangibility to the voice of a poem. it expresses a new sense of poetic separation that you can't get from only thoughts projected directly onto paper.
also, i really like the shape of this poem. it starts out with mostly long, bold lines and short pointed phrases strategically inserted among them and set apart for emphasis. then the piece narrows itself down and trails off into its ending. i really like this effect: something that starts out boldly outspoken and becomes more and more meek and reserved. but you are no less shrewd with your words in the beginning than the ending--it's got good continuity and flow. for some reason, when i see a poem aligned conventionally, in vertical lines, i always look for some shape or some resemblence of a theme. yours does this well.
i've tinkered around with the "do you remember" motif a bit, but resisted posting it on the blog because it relies heavily on spacing and margins. the auto format of the blog would just fuck it up. maybe i'll scan it into a jpeg one of these days and post it that way. but not today.
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