“Many of life's failures are people who did not realize |
how close they were to success when they gave up.”
“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.”
(F. Scott Fitzgerald)
SeanceSometimes a seance feels necessary, so,Seance by DanielleWick
on a humid afternoon in mid-July
two days from outliving my mother by a year,
I decide to call some ghosts and see
what's shaking in the afterlife these days.
Nothing much new, except Ghost Superior finally sees
that people can believe in whatever imaginary friend they need
and Weeping Heart unexpectedly accepted that her miracle baby
has grown into a gigantic asshole.
I'm surprised to find I'm glad for them much in the way
a groundskeeper might be happy there are some new potted plants
to mow around this year.
Time moves slower for them, there in the southern lands,
each clock face a hypnotic circular exercise in pointlessness;
my brain falters when it recognizes the pattern of those voices across the airwaves
and I stumble back in time, just enough that I have to ask myself, "Really
how different am I from them?"
In the next second, my lungs remember how to work
and I hang up the phone, more surprised than ever
at how easy it's become to climb
If The Weapon FitsThere's a great chasm of want inside meIf The Weapon Fits by DanielleWick
I've never quite figured out how to fill, even though
I'm sheltered by a dozen hearts,
each the size and weight of heaven.
I've tried the journey to the bottom
and have never found stairs, even though
the violent miners have always traveled free
in and out through my vulnerabilities.
Even today there's a war inside of me
I desperately believe I can win, even though
when the medic says's he's found my heart,
he hands me a grenade.
I open my mouth to correct him, even as I
nestle it into place between my lungs because
every veteran knows that if the weapon fits,
you wear it.
Timpani FistFeel nothing for weeks until, abruptly, the cold war snaps --Timpani Fist by DanielleWick
now my skull is brimming full with heavy stones,
chest cavity jumping hard against the grip of a familiar timpani fist
and these echoes don't know the meaning of de-escalation;
my commanding officers never held a pen to any sort of convention,
Geneva or otherwise.
I'm terrified when allied eyes patrol the border of my expressions --
I hold my breath, coil up tight against the foxhole chambers of my heart
and beg my brain for ceasefire;
it tells me there's no moratorium for the rippling of this aftermath
and, try as I might, I'm afraid I'll never truly expatriate
because the borders before me are made up
of my own pumping blood.
ViolinClose my eyes and I'm neck deep in all those once upon a times:Violin by DanielleWick
freckles pulling across her bare shoulders in constellations of want,
bluest eyes chipping small into slippery ice,
slender hands armored in carmine search down --
all of them digging through, picking apart, whispering
one thing in the daylight,
another in the dark.
I still feel the echo of every crescendo,
seams of nerves splitting, soft lips clicking
firmly into gear then dragging back, re-loading, bearing down;
my clockwork's all stripped, spine's still all stretched out of shape
from walking backwards on hands
through those double-thick, triple-slick eggshell pits.
Ever the hopeful musician, I handed my heartstrings out
one after another, crafted each of those women their own honest violin,
even knowing the most dangerous opponent
is always the newest pupil.
Every slide of the bow struck me rigid, each secret screaming,
every low-breath moment dropping me into those minor keys;
that stupid girl only grew into an aching
"I would say any behavior that is not the status quo is interpreted as insanity, when, in fact, it might actually be enlightenment. Insanity is sort of in the eye of the beholder." - Chuck Palahniuk
Feels good to be writing again. <3