that day

hopes were too high
i was talking like normal
what an indomitable buzz-kill 

oh shit,
i recall now
uh-oh, oh god
saccarine sickly
false words of solace
to break the wacko horse
escaped like crafty inmates

how has it come to this? 

what am i resurrecting? 
once a leaf turns, it’s over
there is no skipping record
no scratch, blood, scab, heal
death has no encore, footnote
nothing extra there, no crumbs
even memories fade, lose clout
no, i didn’t say clot, but anemia
we wilt off, find nutrition other-
wise, sickness, elsewhere, what
variables are infinite, figure 8’s
pleasure, hop on board, ride
around and around with
some-one other than

2 thoughts on “that day

  1. I love that this is the centerpiece of the poem: “what am i resurrecting?” Even if your readers don’t know what you’re talking about, this line should send everyone to a deeply thoughtful place.

    “i was talking like normal” This makes me wonder what you mean by “normal” — your normal, or the world’s idea of “normal.”

    I could read your second stanza a million times.

    “there is no skipping record” This line gets my juices flowing, coming up with all kinds of meanings other than a scratched music record on a player (or lack thereof).

    there is no skipping (like a child)
    there is no skipping the record of events/facts
    there is no skipping re-cord (like how we used to record our favorite songs playing on the radio)
    there is no skipping re-cord (reattaching to the umbilical cord, crawling back inside the womb [emotionally])
    there is no skipping re-chord (hooking up to an IV of music)

    Love these as well:
    “find nutrition other-
    wise”

    “variables are infinite, figure 8′s
    pleasure, hop on board, ride”

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