How to Return from the Knowing-Place

-

 HOW TO RETURN FROM THE KNOWING-PLACE


— circa 3:45pm


Begin by acknowledging how heavy 

the knowing you’ve been tasked to tote. 


Note how taught this tendency 

to color-code, to place in the approximate 

folder, how quick you’re found 

to spiral-bound, staple, three-ring-

bind the unaccounted-for you find 

and cram them in your bag. 


Pay attention to the tension 

in your spine and other central parts

of you, grown rigid as a hardback. 


Now here comes the hard part: 


Shrug your shoulders, the way 

you used to when you didn’t know

the answer, had nothing to say.


Feel the air-conditioning kissing

your damp t-shirt as your backpack slumps

to the floor, more than muscles

loosening as you step inside and drop

it on the mat. You know the rules:


Slip off your shoes. This is what

you’ve been waiting for. All that knowing 

won’t help you here. 


Welcome home.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Bends

-
 THE BENDS           At a certain depth the voices all thrum at the same, garbled pitch.  Both wisdom and the waiting swarm of bees call you up for air,  both wisdom and the Anglerfish draw you deeper. Do you paddle faster  from Leviathan or close your eyes and wait?  Once inside, do you stab the tender heart or caress it? There’s leagues on leagues but we’re in  out of ours and the tanks are low. You die if you come up too quick, you die  if you don’t surface soon, and at this sounding we won’t be dragged out by the light  of the moon. As to good news, t he returned ship sloshes vacant  at port while the wreck is found  at rest on solid ground, home now  to an ecosystem riddled with life.
Read more

Refurbished

-
REFURBISHED The ladybug dies  wedged in wicker,  is spray-painted green.  Disassemble yourself.  Free trampoline.   Not one to jump to conclusions, but if even pipe-smoke throws a shadow in moonlight, nothing is ever full- nothing, right?  The trees agree to lower the veil  and reveal the bare strip of road which runs behind the house.  The white roar of leaving  never leaves, and the porch  light flickers but never goes out.  In a world of partially resurrected things, the quick and the dead dance a tango then collapse in a tangled heap to make  furious love till morning shakes the can and picks a fade-resistant shade of light.
Read more

Holly

-
  HOLLY             — a yellow labrador One day you'll say your childhood  dog’s name and it will sound  a bit odd, flat , as if it  were someone else’s pet  who wandered its way  like a hair into your mouth.  You haven’t thought about her  much the past few years,  but still, you didn’t expect she’d just disappear like that.  The scary part isn’t that she’s gone— you loved her, but it’s a given dogs will run away, true  to their nature. What haunts you,  rather, is the crowd of other constancies milling about your house, the question of which will slip out next if you forget  and leave the door open,  even just a crack. The girl lying next to you? The name of your homeroom teacher? The drive home, those turns you know in your bones? And then  what really troubles you is how   you’ll go on living without them around anymore, how you might even do just fine at it.
Read more