did I ask to breathe when breath stopped
again and again but machines brought me back
did I ask to see with two eyes or four
with spectacles that got knocked from my face
did I ask for friendship in the solitary years
when I was left to translate this foreign world
I asked for nothing because that’s all I dared expect
watched as carefully as I could, and learned
now?
I ask for nothing still
do not breathe no not now
this is not air for breathing
particles fill the sky outside the window
visibly defining smaze
I heard words break in the air
shattered pieces hovering
uncertain not knowing
whether to fall to the nearest walk
or join the next kaleidoscope
weight unrelated to meaning
curses lighter than gossamer
loving terms too heavy to loft
all hanging there intertwined for a moment
then crack crack crack
the burden of conveyance too much
drag the life you never lived
the one you dreamed of as a child
the one you wanted when you heard that song
the one you felt when your head was on her shoulder
place every piece of it you can fit
into the solitary crowded room of your heart
arrange it rearrange it until you’ve made your perfect space
then gently close the door and walk away
never looking back
(For Chris)
I turned off the clock
tears must have their due
not rushed by paltry measure
nor forced by othered rule
grief has always hit me late
gone underground then emerged
it feels the core of me
hidden, silent, generative
sorrow and joy mirrored alike
the very dance of time
two boys walk hand-in-hand to a room
a pigeon on the sidewalk dies
street corner habitues change guard
the coffee kiosk closes its window
minutiae we’ve gathered shut behind the doors of the day
left scattered across our life in untidy clumps
these illusory except for the return
again and again and again
at the end of the day the day comes to an end
streets silenced and cleaned
detritus disappeared
storefronts gated and chained
this hushed new scape ominous
as a post-apocalyptic scene
pigeons and crows gathered
in their respective flocks and murders
to reconnoiter empty sidewalks
and discuss missing garbage bins
humans disregarded altogether
except as a means to an end
the blade turned, the wielder wounded
he blames the knife the edge the angle
the very target that he missed
he’s the only one that brought a weapon
the rest of us brought tools
he doesn’t realize we see he’s bleeding
he doesn’t want any help
once again we wonder
alone in our room or in conversations in cafes
when will they come
no need to ask how will it start
the scrawled graffiti the placards the threats the chants
the message no longer makes distinction
the world remembers terrifying lessons
watches as some of us pays no heed
the weight of history falls as a jackboot to our heart
when all burns and disappears, where will the diaspora land
on the block where the pigeon died
an irregular bloody smear with a few dirty feathers
all that remained of the unnoticed bird
yet people remembered something
and in the way of the street
turned this into a different reliquary
dropped bitter regrets, each burning a different pattern
cried briny tears, each etching it’s own trace
sprinkled secret joys, each sticking like shiny glitter
soon the pavement was transformed
became an altar to chaotic resilience
and for a moment the clickety-clack of the weaving paused
and the weaver smiled a wolfish grin
