You must arm yourself with expectations of their infirmities, and
resolve nobly to forgive them.
There's a fist in my brain some mornings, wrapped around a rock. My
hand is not cocoon but vise. The difference, she says, between vace
and vahze is one of class. Anger's
bitter, but we put it on like
a silk shawl. No one kills us for ours.
If we hated ourselves less, we could shed these skeins. The mirror's
a shallow witness, seeing only what we
put in front of it. I am not I who see only myself. The
writer's depression lifted after she fell and scraped skin off palms
and knees. I take examples
out of my poems to leave stains at the top. Use the soft side of the
sponge to wash off surfaces; the other side only
scars.
--28
May 2015
2 comments:
Nobly resolving to forgive others seems so patronpzing, doesn't it? I like the way cocoon (which isn't there) turns to silk skeins of anger, which are. And it seems very true that depression lifts after the grazing (vs gauzy shawl?)--having other things to focus on (which is why the mirror line works)not sure about the spongy bit at the end
That wraparound of forgiveness and bitterness, depression, the body. Vase and vahze - I choose the class that doesn't give a care how you say it. The fist in the brain, my god, yes - and how that connects to the sponge is brilliant. Only the "take examples out of my poems" line felt too point-y and on-the-nose; all else resonates and connects up in really subtle, incredible ways.
Ha ha, just now reading J's comments and FINALLY we get to disagree respectfully about something. ;) Don't you love J's little tiny thumbnail image? She looks so wise!
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