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Literature Text
My father's hair is gray now.
I'm not sure if it was the elevator
or that realization that caused
the lurch in my belly.
There's a little plastic container
on the bathroom counter, housing
blue, yellow, beige pills, designed
to slow the body's inevitable breakdown.
There are lines around my father's eyes now -
I feel his loneliness echoed in my chest,
in the mirror as I prepare for bed.
A blurry, half-remembered moment,
smudged with time, of sitting on his strong
shoulders, laughing in the sun,
so sure that he would always be able
to hold me up to touch the sky.
We live this half-baked life now,
circling each other, moments intersecting,
brief, our real lives hours away, with our
other families, and his silver hair,
little pills, sad eyes make me terrified
that we missed our chance, started
too late, and I will never be
daddy's little girl again.
I'm not sure if it was the elevator
or that realization that caused
the lurch in my belly.
There's a little plastic container
on the bathroom counter, housing
blue, yellow, beige pills, designed
to slow the body's inevitable breakdown.
There are lines around my father's eyes now -
I feel his loneliness echoed in my chest,
in the mirror as I prepare for bed.
A blurry, half-remembered moment,
smudged with time, of sitting on his strong
shoulders, laughing in the sun,
so sure that he would always be able
to hold me up to touch the sky.
We live this half-baked life now,
circling each other, moments intersecting,
brief, our real lives hours away, with our
other families, and his silver hair,
little pills, sad eyes make me terrified
that we missed our chance, started
too late, and I will never be
daddy's little girl again.
Literature
Zemi
Things having to be returned to their transparency:
i.
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
ii.
are recalcitrance / and you
are convergence
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
iii.
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
Literature
reticent
no one seems to realize
i don't talk enough.
i could talk mountains
and valleys
rivers and lakes
canyons and forges
i could talk cliffs
and you back from one
i could talk the way
tape screeches when
it is pulled apart
i could talk red skies
and bleed history
taste music and
touch words
i could breathe silence
and hold sound,
cup my ear to the streets
and hear the sea.
Literature
astronomers
when we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.
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This one is extremely personal, and I have a few concerns with it. It has gone through a few iterations so far, so I thought I would se e what you fine people have to say about it.
Specific questions:
What do you get from this? What do you imagine the situation is?
Is there anything that is jarring, seems out of place, etc?
How is the word choice?
© Jessica McGale
Specific questions:
What do you get from this? What do you imagine the situation is?
Is there anything that is jarring, seems out of place, etc?
How is the word choice?
© Jessica McGale
© 2012 - 2024 beautyinreview
Comments33
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I am crying. My daddy has ALS; I understand this through and through.