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10/08/2023 Emotions deferred catching up
I didn’t mean it then Con/Jur/d, 10/08/2023 We can still feel the wracking sobs the drip, drip-dropping of snot, of a rivulet of ocean intruding Through the slanted afternoon light playing through the dust, stars suspended, everywhere across the swirl The rumple of an unmade bed we’re repeatedly humming “Blackbird on the edge of night” Is there anything sadder? Maybe Molly Malone slinging her mussels “Alive, alive O” Certainly, not whatever misunderstanding the now-dead woman and we had about chores, homework, the bright-bright future, and how Our visions deviated Speaking of our Mother’s death similarly, but with hiccups, a cigarette and falling snow creating the endless depths, galaxies blinking in and out of existence under the parking lot light And falling down, down the gravity well, without bottom How we wished for another senseless argument, to ground us in the sticky moist body, now the sadness Passes through us one plane, cutting through the many, the vast broken places an overflowing hollow, at the heart of this all.
Sometimes, a poem is all you get — sometimes it’s strangers in a strange land