A guest post today by the irrepressible Kayleigh Wanzer. I really loved this so I wanted to share it.
You thought of life and pictured
more than this. I speak in tongues about
New England nights, perpetual Fall,
the comfortable silence between two people
who would always know each other.
My father makes my stepmother the same drink
every night before she arrives home from work.
This is the version of love that they have forged–
never having to drink alone.
I’ll say it quickly so you believe me—
I am sorry, sorry that I
don’t know the meaning of the words
that you scratch onto my back
when we lay in bed, when you are
grabbing me and saying,
turn over, whispering, come over.
And maybe you’re right,
maybe all we are is just
a mangled mess of
bones and secrets,
maybe it’s just our
muscles moving towards no real ending and
words that disguise wounds that
keep everything in.
We are driving and
I want to tell you about the way buildings look
like they’re on fire this time of day.
The leaves too, someone must have
struck a match. I can still
smell it burning in the air.
You take my hand and I lean toward you.
Let’s turn up the radio.
The world is on fire, the world is on fire.
I turn up the radio.