The Artwork: Falling Apart, Or
The Poem: Time and Space
Sometimes years run through me
and I notice:
an elephant grief has grown slightly smaller in my chest –
now the size of a peach pit, it rolls
around my insides, occasionally
knocking against my heart.
Sometimes months slip by
and I see:
a memory no longer clenches my jaw –
does not turn my eyes to gasoline,
ready to raze my morning
to the ground.
Sometimes minutes tick away
and I observe:
my frothing feelings staggering along the edge –
weak-ankled and leaning into space,
beseeching the air to take it all,
and it does.