Tuesday, November 2, 2010
tonight these pillowcases are filled with lonely. when i open the front door, i find myself twisting inside the low groan of a city. i am the jealous lover. i am the self righteous prick. i am spurned. let us assume i am alive, and that i will live a life. i will find myself raking leaves some autumns. i will carry trash many times. i will swim in the ocean at least once. i will find myself thrilled breathless at my daughter's first laughter. moments will mold themselves around my form, turn my hands to wrinkles. i will lie awake in the nighttime, walk to the window, stare powerless at the infinite moon. i will drive many cars, sit on many toilets, cry many times. perhaps i will marry. perhaps i will love again. and then, will it still hurt when i think of you? let us assume i will make my way to the place when the people i love will begin dying in greater numbers than i can bear. i will spend more time than i want to in hospitals. i will never see my own casket. when they put me in the ground, i hope they will mean the nice things they say. i hope i will have placed my bookmark in a few hearts. i think death will be a great relief. it will be nice to let my bones come apart, to sit in the soil. so even then, when my dusty belongings fade from family attics, when my collar bones turn into oxygen, this is no scratch on forever. fetch me from these cold pillows. i did not call your name, will not call your name. please tell me tell me you despised my face, could not stand my eyes, could not bear my arms, tell me it made you sick to wake up next to me, tell me it was my fault, make sure it is my fault, because i cannot bear it if you have bricked over your heart because of the old terrors. i will build a desert in my chest for you. i will grow into an old man for you. i will walk toward my grave for you. but tell me what forever means. in a universe of collapsing stars, is dead love a powerful thing? i cannot bear your eyes because i remember your body. i hate imagining you. so remove your loneliness from my pillowcases. it is not welcome here. my stitches are healing now, and you will not look on the scars.