What does the body do at home?
When does sleep relinquish its grip?
Where are you when you’re here?
If I were to define for you the home, you will expect me to define the family, which is a blood enclave,
An onslaught, slaughter, slough, slow, skid row, peepshow, perpetuous, perplexed, inflexed, ingest, protest
The home lies.
It’s lying to you! Aren’t you listening?
Hear
where meaning takes many forms
On either side of the meridian separating you from all else
Where phantoms float fluorescent past the place where you keep all things precious
It is a question from which to grasp a semblance of knowing
A table at which we name things
A tower from which to view the world
A cell to which you’ve bent the bars and never turned back
You know, I could have told you everything you thought was true was. That the contract you evaded maintained its bonds. And now you’re waist deep in the flood. Now you’re pulling at the straps. Now you’re crying in the cereal aisle. with style, beguiled, befriend, beget, secret, concrete, convalesce, covalent, valiant you were so brave, my friend.
This is the night I brushed your hair in the field of all things sharp. And you guessed the prophecy like a game of darts. Bullseye. Satisfy
the child ghost chomping at your heels.
For it’s a silence.
It’s daisies in the garden.
A hole in the backyard.
Why, on earth, are you still digging?
I miss you.
The blade just missed me, and I’m running like hell through the fire
Place where we once told stories of dreamy landscapes and fantastical fates you know
You haven’t touched your food yet, sweetheart.
Is everything okay?
Can you recall it?
Step away from the platform, butter the popcorn, take a seat across from, well, you know from what. From whom? I can’t keep doing this.
About the Creator
Aaron Restivo
Person in New York who writes sometimes
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Aaron Restivo and writers in Poets and other communities.
Fruits of the Unknown
Beneath the warmth of the setting sun, holding the hose just above the rich soil at the pear tree’s foot, she wipes the water falling from her face. The jasmine has already begun to bloom, and its scent fills the air around her. She has placed a single flower in her raven braid that stretches down her back. Six months have passed since the crash. Dutifully, she has adopted caring responsibility for the pear tree, a job which has only since become hers. The buds bursting from the leaves will soon bear fruit the color of cobblestone streets, and she must do something with them lest they go to waste. The tree, which stands at the center of our garden in a small plot behind our home, reminds her of me. I, who planted the tree when we bought our first house together, this house which became our home, tended to it, pruned it, watered it, and picked its fruit for us to eat. I strained its juices for us to drink in the heat of summer and baked them into almond tarts for dessert we shared with our neighbors. Standing beside it now, she wonders whether trees grow where I am.
By Aaron Restivo3 years ago in Fiction
The Evolution of LGBT Portrayal in TV and Film
Happy Pride Month, all! I love Pride Month and everything that comes with it; the celebration, the festivities, the prestige. Pride Month is the ultimate beacon of positivity. Now sadly, there are a bunch of people in society who aren't really crazy about Pride Month and have their things to say against it. To those people, I'll only say this. There's a special place reserved for people who are against Pride Month. I'm too much of a gentleman to say it here, but I'll give a few hints: it rhymes with "bell," and I'm not talking about the city in Michigan.
By Clyde E. Dawkins2 days ago in Pride
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.