4/6/18

Note: So I wrote a few drafts of today’s poem, and I’ve narrowed it down to two. I’m not sure which I like better, so I figured I would just post them both! Enjoy!
Draft 1:
I am screa-
-ming for you, calling your name, throwing it 
into the mountains, hoping the echoes will reach 
you 
 
my throat is bloody, 
bleeding, 
raw 
 
I am whis-
-pering your name in the dusk,
praying fairies and fireflies will hear it and find you 
 
blood covers 
every vowel I say 
my throat is closing, 
tightening, 
 
I cannot speak 
or scream
or breath 
Draft 2:

I’ve been whispering your name into the dusk,

hoping a fairy or a firefly will hear me and
find you
tell you I’ve been looking for you,
climbing up cliff faces, running through forests,
taking every subway line
tell you I’ve been crying in my sleep,
my mouth forming your name
even when I have no breath to speak
tell you
I’m still waiting, hands in my pockets, head down,
whispering your name
Day 6 of Na/GloPoWriMo
Prompt: Play with line breaks

Denailing: the forcible extraction of my own fingernails

I’m pulling off my nails
with a pair of old pliers,
interrogating my mind
as to uncover why
I did not take out the trash
before I left for my uncle’s funeral
and let the pomegranates grow mold
on top of my fridge while I was gone.

I would throw away
the bloody fingernails if I could,
but I still haven’t taken out the trash
three days after coming back
so they’re sitting in the mold
that’s grown down the fridge
and now covers the floor.

Stages of Grief: Shock (Part 2)

There’s supposed to be stages of grief,
a formula I follow
that shows me
the yellow brick path
to getting over your death,
but I can’t figure out
at which sign
I was supposed to have turned
in order to  move on to the next step
because though I started bargaining yesterday,
I woke up this morning
back where at shock,
telling myself
that you’re still alive
and just hiding behind the couch,
playing games with me
just like we did
when I was a kid.

 

NaPoWriMo -April 10, 2016