“tonight” – a poem

Thursday night,

sit and write

my calves are sore from moving metal plates.

my silent apartment motionless,

and with unconscious breath i sit and wait.

for what, i do not know

for my brain to will my legs to move,

for my heart to will my mind to will my hands

to create something new.

it seems i have forgotten color,

that i know not what to do with myself while i am alone.

it seems i have forgotten shape: the morphology of the counter-tops, of the blushing-apple trees

don’t feel like home.

perhaps i have figured out this perpetual obsession

with an unknown eve –

should i begin to walk at night,

braving the darkness, the whisper of leaves?

all that i know is that right now i feel

emptied, cracked, rushed, like water boiling too fast on the stove.

so today i called my brother, but he was busy

beginning a life that is now fully his own.



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