There was something I forgot to say

2/28/2023

Exactly how you expected it to be
Con/Jur/d, 2/28/2023

1.

“After this,” she said
“You’ll realize ecstasy is a birthright
long denied, and you might be
annoyed, angry, furious”

Standing outside the warehouse
sympathetic cohorts dumping
bucket upon bucket of chlorinated
fluoridated water, upon my head
beads and linen adhering to my skin
taking deep, deep breaths

a newborn’s breath

They asked, “How was that?
How was that?” Over and over

Instead of wailing, I ask
“How the fuck was what?”

And again
we learn, this passage
between entrance and exit
is nothing we can expect
or anticipate, 

2.

Holding to the dark
wave him on
fail to light a clove cigarette
empty lighter sparks accompanied
by crickets, must be warmer
although I shiver

Wind and waves are bigger
the light at the hostel door
small, occluded, while bright pinprick
stars shine unseen above the fog
as clear now as then

I didn’t smoke then
so what is this?

3.

You do it too
package the whoosh
into sellable, discreet
memories, how we want
to be remembered, adverts
for a life well spent

always looking for a buyer
of your hard work, your lazi -
ness

4.

Please, it’s not your fault
you were taught religions
of economics and rewards

5.

I’m a lousy hugger
touch having been labeled 
good, bad, intimate, and 
transactional

5a.

I remember she cried
after the insurance doctor 
tried to deny further bodywork
after the third accident
saying, “Touch makes us
feel better but it doesn’t heal”

5b.

We were drunk
in those days after the divorce
I often was, The Witch
asked me to hug from
from the ground up, saying
I hadn’t learned to ground
or where my center was

After the 5th
attempt I did a little better
standing on the old concrete
swaddled in honeysuckle and
cigarette smoke

6. 

Do you remember it that way?

7.

Born by C-section
I almost threw up in my mask
not because of the yellow disinfectant
on belly, the machinic smell
or discreet blood 

When you cried
unfettered and wild, a howl
of everything and everyone

deeper, truer, and lonelier
then it was or will be

9. 

We are given 
one poem upon
entering:

Just this
Like this
Just this.

But I think, for today I like this album more

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 2/28/2023