Sunday, May 18, 2014

The Alternative

I am trying to slow my breath
Let the moments dissipate
And roll off of me
Trying to avoid the mind of a victim
To avoid my own eyes
Or at least to see beyond
These moments

The tremor in my hand betrays me
Seems to laugh at me
With hushed breath
In my left ear
Even in my pocket
For fear of others noticing
Fear of my own narrow
My own
As sharp as a hair

I must see you as dirt
Taste you as smoke
Thick black fingers down my throat
I must step with distain
Upon you face
To the train
From the train
Within your valley of glass
And steel
I project a river of fractures
Wrapped around your spine
A reason to run
Before the collapse

The alternative
Weighs upon me
Would fold me to my knees
If I did not compress it
Hold back the flashes
Memories of a warm hand in mine
The smile of my love
As she sits waiting for me
In the doorway
Locked out again
She wasn’t even angry
Simply trusted I would show up

I have tried to press the memories
Into small photographs
Burned at the edges
Cut in half
So I no longer see
Fingers pointing at the sky
Eyes peering over the ledge
Counting the heads of neighbors
So I no longer feel
Wrapped around my entire head
Like a pillow

Nostalgia can become a well
Built brick by brick
Up around us
Dreams the flip-book of

I didn’t even notice
As it crept along
Day by day
Like moss

I slow my breath again
Try to pretend I do not miss her face
Do not miss my love
My heart
She does cartwheels in the sand
Every time I close my eyes

I can only exhale slowly
Until this purgatory ends
The alternative
Doesn’t care