whisper tray
sometimes I wonder where the person is
under your ironic little smile
somewhere, maybe a few layers deep,
I might find your well of sorrow…
I see you wrestling with
distractions
a, a, b, a, a, a, b, c
I see you waiting for your
moment
I see your broken, brittle
glances
and I hear a million weighted sighs
…grief is native…
in this crude genetic garbage
go ahead,
delay the bleed, this thoughtful session
of emotional withdrawal —
it flies in the face of you, your reception,
your collection,
separate from the whisper tray,
further from the glare of sanctuary,
and, yeah, please
for a moment
really think about what I said…
you sorta touched my hand back there —
even in the slightest of gestures,
I can find the heart of your intention
“You’ve got to work with your mistakes until they look intended. Understand?”
―Raymond Carver, Cathedral
Garbage Notes: