Jay Poem 15.

In December, I felt a cooling doom

15, 16, stops at 17,
that icebox presence
came through the threshold,
in that corner room
Wednesday night, empty stomach,
was nothing new
at my feet that must of been you
hovering cold and vibrating
in tones of blues
I sobbed in my pillow, but had no excuse
as the blankets of snow, drifted outside,
in ambient whiteout
my heart grew empty,
abandoned it before,
I felt the wounds bloom

In June, my emotional circumference,
the regression rest at 15
in kitchen nightmares
the trash full of squirming opalescence
paint a peeling, chrome pegasus
I felt the specter, go in and out of my head

Urgently, trying to grasp at the middle, 16
my hands with silky knots,
smiling back at you,
with silver rings,
building an anchor for you

Emulsion scratched,
at the age of 22, in fact
Who were you? Who was I?
like flashes in the camera eye
use to drive all the way up top
of parking garages
to see how far gravity would reach me
aching joy
shoe gazing

Jason, your phantom steps,
move me down a spiral timeline
to the depths of one echoing point, and
bends back to what was aching

Standard
Mine Na 12.

Night of Plight

 

In September’s chambers
Where I stretch out
Cry out
Choke on life’s droplets
Feel the stabs across my chest
Of unquiet love, burned down to sorrow’s howl

Search for reasons in piled books
To be pulled up by fish hooks
Reclaim the joucned amygdala

But Lowell’s ungoverned course
Clings like black iron to my knife

I’m to blame
I sent the invite
And they dance around me
But never kindly touch me
They use magnets to pull from me
What they want
To spin it for their own glory dust
But tonight my back is turned
From these warm hosts
To lay once more with my little ghost

Photograph: Francesca Woodman   I could no longer play

Poem: Naomi Ruth Waldschmidt

Standard