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10 January, 2024

Have you so much of anything you could lend to me at all? Any that is yours? Perhaps one that used to be? A silver ring, a sweater? Something left not to brutalize? A kiss on the knuckles, a palm on the forehead? Anything that consoles but most of all understands? Please, please, please? Will you let me get what I want? Let me just this once? That if I must wave the white flag and let the dirt feel my face, that if I must let the waters enter my nose and cry out of grace, and if I must let its brothers return my body to the savants all the while knowing I wanted so long to be owned like how faith has had owned me before, would you be so kind and turn your back on me before I wake? Would you be so kind and leave the ring on our bedside table? Would you be so kind and leave the sweater hanging? You do understand, do you, that it is just right to give it all back? That it is just right to not want it anymore? That it could be warm enough again for us someday?

10 January, 2024