Thursday, January 15, 2009

My 4 a.m. Poem



Silence

3:54 a.m
--the fingers
As if by their own
Language
Stumble
Over keypad
Finding
Fumbling
Making sense
Out of the
Tightening of chest
And tears escaping
when least expected

It seems as if everything
Makes me weep
These days

And
I am beginning to understand
Why the sun
Needs night.
What it is
To be so bright
So much
For so many

I smile
Half habit
I’ve forgotten
What it was like
To feel so happy
You could fly
Make we outgrow
Wings the same way
We do teeth,
Skin,
Lies.

I know I’m a different woman
Than I was last night
And I cannot
Convince you
Any different
But there’s this fear
Whispering, insisting that:
If I keep changing
I will return
To what I once was
And what good is there in that?

Circles. Cycles.
Is it because I am woman
Or because I am stubborn?

Synonymous
At this time of night
when
The fingers
Love this cool feel
Of letters
Sliding beneath
Fingerprints

Words
Have become my life

And it is okay
It is finally okay
To have only that

The words
That hurt
That laugh
Bleed
Burst
Live
Thrive
Pound
Cut
Screw
Fuck
Need
And
Need
And
Need

3:59a.m..

So much
For this so called
Silence.

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