A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || January 28, 2009 || 12:48 am

Just skip this one if you’re not the one I’m talking to

Regardless of all else, I do value the last moments, because of how we used them. We dragged that mattress out, flopping it in front of the fireplace, and camped out there just like the first time. Only, unlike the first time, we used those last moments to sit and rock and mourn our love, each exercising command over the other’s ragged breaths and surging blood.

I was foolish to have ever thought I could write you a poem with my life. I am full of trouble and it’s all I can do to stutter through the working-out of my own name.

You took a single picture of me that night. I still have the photo: My leg is stuck, unruly, out from under the coverlet, I am pressing the pillow tightly to myself and there is a look in my eyes which I’ve not seen on film before or since. This is because they –my eyes, that is– usually only betray me in a face-to-face fashion. But here, in this particular photograph, my eyes busied themselves with the telling of how we relinquished one another’s hearts, duly acknowledging a bad trade.

Ten minutes after it was all done for good, I could have given you a list (the paper covered over on both sides) of regret, but here-now-today the only one I really have is that we don’t have our own song that I can sit and bruise myself on.

3 worked it out »

  1. chris robinson 1.28.2009

    Maybe not a poem with your life — and this is something I have longed for from an other — but this is a poem nevertheless. Indeed, it is a very good poem that breaks down the barriers between the soul and the page. The writer bleeds. The reader aches.

  2. that girl 1.28.2009

    I’m sorry sweet pea.


  3. maggie, dammit 2.14.2009

    I’m so glad I didn’t skip this one. It’s phenomenal.


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