Status of Humanity
be diminished by
Past questioned, Look, Voice-
and- Expression- thereby-
Status of Humanity
be diminished by
Past questioned, Look, Voice-
and- Expression- thereby-
A Voice is the thing to use-
without Pen at hand.
A Voice will raise the Truth,
a Pen will make It grand.
Once I cried from my powder blue room
my wails rising from my crib
like awful birds- beaks targeting ears
at which to peck.
Once I reached inside myself
and found the nerve to kick off the training wheels
and form my own path, unencumbered.
Once I found myself in a four square court
and the ball bounced between me
and people who introduced themselves
as they held that yellow rubber sphere.
Once I looked at the monochrome clock
that crouched, always in the same place,
on the mocha-brown walls of a building
that always smelled of new shoes and Lysol.
Once I found myself in a room-
painted a darker blue, the same
room where that doll-sized impression of myself
used its voice to rouse people from slumber.
Now I can use my voice to do the same,
but in spite of everything,
I take my own initiative
and set forth, out of the crib, onto the street, into the halls
on my own.
Because our two lives
are of different orbits.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say
I wanted to see you again.
Sometimes concealing the truth
is as bad as lying.
But if I could be anywhere,
I’d be in London,
or Paris. Alone.
I’ll have to pay off student loans
before I can afford a plane ticket
to Europe. I don’t think I’d say
goodbye to you before I’d leave.
Maybe I’d leave you my orange sweatshirt,
just because you won’t be able to wear it.
Maybe I’d leave you with the book
I made out of every poem
I’ve written about you.
Maybe I’d try to meet you beforehand,
and leave you with a word spoken out loud,
because you may not miss the sound of my voice,
or you may not remember it- I don’t
remember yours. And that scares me.
So I’ll leave you with a word,
if you’ll just speak my name.
The Intonation- of the Wind-
scraped against my Ear-
but what Fortune that it was
the Last thing I would Hear-
And the Wind Howls out in anger,
such Feelings I repressed,
but the Universe- it Knows me-
and Wants to be noticed.
“I believe the universe wants to be noticed.” -from The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green
And so I have to put aside
what fantasies I had.
And so I must try to silence the voice
in me that says “I’m yours.”
And so I must try to look at you
without blushing.
I must try to fight the urge to hold your hand,
to fawn over your smile,
to talk to you
simply because I like the way you talk.
I feel sad,
though I shouldn’t.
I haven’t lost anything,
not really.
I’ve gained a friend.
That’s something.
So,
I’m alright.