“You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” – C. Joybell C.
The last time I left
the door slammed shut behind me,
slicing the back of my heel.
I wanted to sink to my knees
there on the stone walkway
but instead I stumbled forward,
a red trail of myself left there
on the soil leading up to your porch.
There is only one way to talk to the moon,
only one way to hold a fossil –
that is, tenderly.
So this is the last bit of time
I will spend on you, tonguing
your name and hacking it out with my pen.
I will stop trying to unearth you.
I will stop listening for you
in the full-throated scream
of the cicada beneath my window.
I will stop watching the clock and
envying its seconds.
I will accept that there will be
no seconds for us.
With shovel in hand I will go searching
for relics from someone else’s past.
I will hold them up to the light
and they will mean nothing to me,
I will break them if I want to.
It will feel good to speak to rock
without expecting a response.
It will feel good to handle history
with a steady hand and emerge
from the dirt unscathed.