THE COMET
I walked three hours
in the dead of night
on Christmas Eve
holding each breath
a little longer than I should
so that the emissions
were more distinct
I had the dull temptation to tell you
that you look like a full person.
How do you do that?
Did you get over these types
of long sad walks
through the streets
you know too much?
Is it the ink you’ve
taken to your body
that makes your thoughts
more important?
Or is it something that you have
only convinced yourself of,
with perhaps another subsidized loan
and a new haircut?
Why do I respect you more than
I’ve ever myself as soon as
you enter the room
and why am I convinced that
your celebrations evoke a level
of refinement that I can’t imitate
or that you walk through the late
dark hours after a meager meal
feeling just as hungry but not as tempted
to admit it?
Or is there no admission since you’ve
already been admitted, and all I’ve
been is committed to finishing this
acid-baiting slog across town
to wish you well?
Why does it seem impossible
to congeal myself into something as
apparently defined as you
We’ve never spoken, but I’ve
privileged your voice with some
token measure of grandeur
it seems it must deserve
Why else would you be here?
Why else would I trod along,
frigid, at your heels?
in the dead of night
on Christmas Eve
holding each breath
a little longer than I should
so that the emissions
were more distinct
I had the dull temptation to tell you
that you look like a full person.
How do you do that?
Did you get over these types
of long sad walks
through the streets
you know too much?
Is it the ink you’ve
taken to your body
that makes your thoughts
more important?
Or is it something that you have
only convinced yourself of,
with perhaps another subsidized loan
and a new haircut?
Why do I respect you more than
I’ve ever myself as soon as
you enter the room
and why am I convinced that
your celebrations evoke a level
of refinement that I can’t imitate
or that you walk through the late
dark hours after a meager meal
feeling just as hungry but not as tempted
to admit it?
Or is there no admission since you’ve
already been admitted, and all I’ve
been is committed to finishing this
acid-baiting slog across town
to wish you well?
Why does it seem impossible
to congeal myself into something as
apparently defined as you
We’ve never spoken, but I’ve
privileged your voice with some
token measure of grandeur
it seems it must deserve
Why else would you be here?
Why else would I trod along,
frigid, at your heels?
THE JEALOUS CITY
Here where eyes live watching
from concrete, wires, windows
their voices whisper after you
We love what we are used to
and look after our own
shaping friends from our favorites
in a fickle shifting image that
kills you if you fall from fashion
without slashing your wrists
as words escape their lips
Culture claws make claims
colonizing success of citizens
who have made the exodus
Here where honor is built
with the prettiest shapes and smiles and
the blood you spend in inky toils is bottled
and sipped and spat back sweeter and quicker
Quiet profundity is praised on sight
by powerful ignorant arrogance that
spills drinks on your codes of conduct
and caresses your cares and leaves your
heart slowly turning on a spit
Where you differ it dilutes you or
bares its glittering teeth if you follow suit
with the complicit silence that erases
the visage of names who defy its stasis
Here where they keep you
on shoulders or in hands or
below and what you will never know
is who walks in the shadows with
shiny metal ready for you and who
quietly beckons beyond the woods
to melt you into their kiss as sounds on
their mouths ostracize your curious ears
and taste the salt under your forming scabs
It takes you in, turns on you, and traps you
this place you must call home.
from concrete, wires, windows
their voices whisper after you
We love what we are used to
and look after our own
shaping friends from our favorites
in a fickle shifting image that
kills you if you fall from fashion
without slashing your wrists
as words escape their lips
Culture claws make claims
colonizing success of citizens
who have made the exodus
Here where honor is built
with the prettiest shapes and smiles and
the blood you spend in inky toils is bottled
and sipped and spat back sweeter and quicker
Quiet profundity is praised on sight
by powerful ignorant arrogance that
spills drinks on your codes of conduct
and caresses your cares and leaves your
heart slowly turning on a spit
Where you differ it dilutes you or
bares its glittering teeth if you follow suit
with the complicit silence that erases
the visage of names who defy its stasis
Here where they keep you
on shoulders or in hands or
below and what you will never know
is who walks in the shadows with
shiny metal ready for you and who
quietly beckons beyond the woods
to melt you into their kiss as sounds on
their mouths ostracize your curious ears
and taste the salt under your forming scabs
It takes you in, turns on you, and traps you
this place you must call home.