Now, all the flowers are dying. He says, "Must just be that way. A short bloom."
//
You gather petals off the ground. You pool them in your hand, with wood chips.
When I look at you I just want to say—
I am
drawn to people
whose biggest fear
is forgetting. I have not
been out to see the stars
in ages. Lately, I prefer
the sun. That heat sear-
-ing into my forearms.
That red burn.
I know we can’t own
anyone, but if you’re gonna
vanish you have to call.
I don’t know where you
disappear to.
The air. Remember, I am drawn in lines of light. I am busy becoming.
Some things we lost (because we never had them) and all the beauty in them was spoiled, and we buried our head in the elbows of our empty arms.
*****A part of my moon ritual for 2021 Super Pink Moon was looking back on old poem fragments, not to edit or change them, but to recognize the value in them. It's powerful to be guided by the moon back in time, to recognize my growth but also to honor the person I was when I wrote these poems. Check out my profile for more Poem Fragments for the Pink Moon!*****
About the Creator
Joe Nasta
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.