An Octopus in a Rip Current
My attacker had red sheets & a Beatles poster on his wall that my eyes went back to
throughout the five minutes I was there. I was only in there five minutes you know,
or most likely you don’t, since these words have never met paper before. You know,
or really don’t, that I’ve tried to make word & paper congregate, but it’s like when I was a
kid & used to get those fake tattoos that only require water to skin contact. They never
lasted. They never lasted more than a few days. These words never last more than a few
hours.
So he has red sheets. So what? “So what” I said when I was given to the floor & all I can
grasp is the red from the sheets mixed with her blood
her red blood that looks so dark I wonder where the line between red & brown categorically
expires. Blood red sheets tinged with brown caked blood
is my entire world
right now because my mind can’t articulate any other thoughts.
When I was young my mom & I got caught in a rip current. She held
my hand as I dangled in the water like an upside octopus with its limbs flailing everywhere. I
looked up & fondled the air that was leaving my lungs
but I only saw the dusty water & igniting light & the pressure my mom kept driving
onto my hands so I wouldn’t float away.
When oxygen unknowingly consents from the lungs it also leaves the brain
because as I felt ten long nails dig harder & harder I felt so tranquil that I immediately knew
I was slipping. No reflections passed through my head but as I swung left & right & tried to
use my own nails to pry his off I saw that Beatles poster against the wall. Four thumbtacks
held it up but one was teetering away from the herd & if one falls they all fall because the
weight of the poster will bring it crashing down.
Eyes static on the poster I realized I don’t know much about the Beatles & I never would.
Because ten long nails dug harder & harder & my fingers began to tumble away & I knew
the oxygen was almost all absent. She sat on the bed, the three of us in the room, & didn’t
& didn’t
even budge because all of her oxygen had turned into alcohol steamed hiccups that left foggy
fingerprints on his bed.
You know, or really don’t, I wasn’t supposed to be there but just came to pick her up when
everything rocketed. 1 minute I was there scared, 2 minutes I yelled, 3 minutes with ten long
fingers, 4 minutes released, 5 minutes a knock on the door ushering the
three of us out.
It doesn’t matter if these words last because I have lasted & he hasn’t
& the Beatles will last & the sheets will last because anything made of matter can never be
broken down.
He isn’t matter anymore
throughout the five minutes I was there. I was only in there five minutes you know,
or most likely you don’t, since these words have never met paper before. You know,
or really don’t, that I’ve tried to make word & paper congregate, but it’s like when I was a
kid & used to get those fake tattoos that only require water to skin contact. They never
lasted. They never lasted more than a few days. These words never last more than a few
hours.
So he has red sheets. So what? “So what” I said when I was given to the floor & all I can
grasp is the red from the sheets mixed with her blood
her red blood that looks so dark I wonder where the line between red & brown categorically
expires. Blood red sheets tinged with brown caked blood
is my entire world
right now because my mind can’t articulate any other thoughts.
When I was young my mom & I got caught in a rip current. She held
my hand as I dangled in the water like an upside octopus with its limbs flailing everywhere. I
looked up & fondled the air that was leaving my lungs
but I only saw the dusty water & igniting light & the pressure my mom kept driving
onto my hands so I wouldn’t float away.
When oxygen unknowingly consents from the lungs it also leaves the brain
because as I felt ten long nails dig harder & harder I felt so tranquil that I immediately knew
I was slipping. No reflections passed through my head but as I swung left & right & tried to
use my own nails to pry his off I saw that Beatles poster against the wall. Four thumbtacks
held it up but one was teetering away from the herd & if one falls they all fall because the
weight of the poster will bring it crashing down.
Eyes static on the poster I realized I don’t know much about the Beatles & I never would.
Because ten long nails dug harder & harder & my fingers began to tumble away & I knew
the oxygen was almost all absent. She sat on the bed, the three of us in the room, & didn’t
& didn’t
even budge because all of her oxygen had turned into alcohol steamed hiccups that left foggy
fingerprints on his bed.
You know, or really don’t, I wasn’t supposed to be there but just came to pick her up when
everything rocketed. 1 minute I was there scared, 2 minutes I yelled, 3 minutes with ten long
fingers, 4 minutes released, 5 minutes a knock on the door ushering the
three of us out.
It doesn’t matter if these words last because I have lasted & he hasn’t
& the Beatles will last & the sheets will last because anything made of matter can never be
broken down.
He isn’t matter anymore
