Yesterday a poem was pieced together by myself and the most talented Markezz. It is the second piece we’ve done together… collaborations with other word artists always add such incredible new texture and sound to a piece. Thank you again to Markezz for bringing our new poem to life…
the survival of absence while living through gone
IF YOU WERE AN EMAIL,
I’D SAVE YOU TO MY DRAFT FOLDER,
SO THAT THE MESSAGE COULD BE POSTPONED,
POSSIBLY NEVER DELIVERED,
AND THE RIPPLE AFFECT FELT FOR HOURS,
THAT DRAG INTO DAYS,
DAYS INTO WEEKS,
WEEKS INTO AN ABYSS OF DENIAL,
TO THE EXTENT OF ME GOING DOWN TO THE COFFEE SHOP,
AT THE SAME TIME,
AS IF EVERYTHING WERE THE SAME
BUYING TWO COFFEES AND TWO DOUGHNUTS,
ME AN OLD FASHIONED MAPLE,
YOU A BUTTERMILK GLAZE,
THE KIND LADY AT THE COUNTER REMEMBERS YOU,
WHO COULD FORGET,
SHE ASKS HOW YOU’RE DOING…
I MUMBLE SOMETHING CLOSE TO COHERENT AS SHE HANDS ME THE CHANGE,
ON THE WAY OUT THE DOOR,
I REDUCE MYSELF TO THE CONTENTS IN MY HAND,
WHAT IF I CUT MY HAIR?
WOULD THEY BE “LOCKS OF LOVE”
A PIECE OF ME THAT YOU TOUCHED.
SINCE I CAN’T CUT MY HEART OUT-
THE HAIR WILL HAVE TO DO.
I stopped carrying my phone because you stopped calling.
And do you know… I couldn’t even think for three weeks.
For twenty-one days I listened to every conversation
in my head down to the breath of your last response.
Speak to you soon.
Soon is now or is not on your clock. My time.
It doesn’t hurt that you’re gone.
It hurts that I care.
I hurt with fingernails digging the fleshy part of my hands.
Carving new scars you left behind.
A fresh five for every time I say Goodbye.
You never say it.
I have waved to you with every part of my body.
Bid you farewell with my elbows and adieu with my knees.
I’ve said please and wheezed from the asthma of adios that
chokes me each time I say
Chokes up my throat like when a movie makes you cry
and you try to pretend you’re not.
Since you’re not comfortable revealing tears in the dark.
It’s getting impossible
to say goodbye.
Conclude the conversation.
I can’t speak the word