Hope you all missed blog posts of poems forever.
And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So by Wendy Xu
Today there has been so much talk of things exploding
into other things, so much that we all become curious, that we
all run outside into the hot streets
and hug. Romance is a grotto of eager stone
anticipating light, or a girl whose teeth
you can always see. With more sparkle and pop
is the only way to live. Your confetti tongue explodes
into acid jazz. Small typewriters
that other people keep in their eyes
click away at all our farewell parties. It is hard
to pack for the rest of your life. Someone is always
eating cold cucumber noodles. Someone will drop by later
to help dismantle some furniture. A lot can go wrong
if you sleep or think, but the trees go on waving
their broken little hands.
Untitled (inspired by Wendy Xu) by me
Today we realized that the saddest thing about death is
the people who get left behind, so much talk about mothers now without sons and how
the mothers should never die second.
Love lives in overalls and always brings food downstairs. Eventually, in a few weeks or a few
years, with more sparkle and pop will be the only way to live. Until then,
someone is always eating cold cucumber noodles and waiting for the autopsy results.
Whispers of gratitude that at least it
wasn't their sons this time hum between the
handshakes of the funeral-goers.
It is hard to pack for the rest of your life. Someone will call later to send their condolences.
A lot can go wrong if you sleep or think, but the seasons will
go on slipping from fall to winter to spring again.
"I walk into a poem and walk out someone else." -Nayyirah Waheed
Happy almost weekend,