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Literature Text
Tell me something quiet, you
asked, so I did. I told you the
day I skipped school because I
hated the look of the carpet
so I walked out of the doors
by the cafeteria until I found
the forest. and then I hit the
forest path and I kept walking.
It was February. I was alone.
There was a waterfall frozen
rigid and when I hurled all of
my emotions through a stone it
shattered into a million tiny
grains of sparkling crystal sand
Tell me something green. A boy
with a coin stood in the market
when he spotted the smile of the
beautiful girl and he didn't even
hear the clink and the splash as
it slipped quicksilver fast between
the jail cell bars of the storm drain.
I tell you this story because I really
don't want to have to explain the
ring I found on the internet with
your birthstone in it, or the numbered
papers collecting in my back pocket
Tell me something reckless. One day
you tucked your fingertips beneath mine
and spun me ice skating across the
grease of the cafeteria dance floor.
The click of camera shutters drew
sunspots on the insides of my eye
lids and your shirt was made of
thousands of strands of threads
each one twisted tight and wound
flat into the pattern of the fabric
and if one of them cut loose every
once in a while I wasn't about
to say a single thing to you of it
Tell me something faded. There was
a weekend when I spent all day
scrubbing the stain of their words
from between the folds of your favorite
sweatshirt and then I put it in the
dryer so that when you put it on
the warm cocoon would burn
away the residue until you were
light enough to fly away again
Tell me something nourishing. Even
though she'd asked me for my
homework, I blurted out the sky's
name and then yours in quick
succession but she just smiled quietly
and shrugged the paper from my
fingers and told me the bell had
rung five minutes ago so I should
get out of her classroom with all
her good wishes and luck in my veins
Tell me something frantic. Once I
considered swallowing a magnet
because I needed something heavy
to keep me tied down when the
butterflies tried to float me off
the ground by my stomach
every time I thought of you
Tell me something frozen. I
drove the dust bunnies out from
under my bed because I didn't
want them to eat at the box of
photographs and memories of you
that I buried there to stop them
from dissolving in the bruising sun
light. I talked cryogenics with
you over coffee and you giggled
the entire time because you
thought I had made it all up
just to make you laugh. Which
was really only half of a lie
Tell me something loved. I hate
speaking things like this out
loud because the air is endless
but these syllables are finite and
I'm terrified that their shape
will be lost in the void. But at
least it's better than writing it
down because on paper there is a
word between the I and the You
which is almost half an inch wide
and that is half an inch more
space than there needs to be.
asked, so I did. I told you the
day I skipped school because I
hated the look of the carpet
so I walked out of the doors
by the cafeteria until I found
the forest. and then I hit the
forest path and I kept walking.
It was February. I was alone.
There was a waterfall frozen
rigid and when I hurled all of
my emotions through a stone it
shattered into a million tiny
grains of sparkling crystal sand
Tell me something green. A boy
with a coin stood in the market
when he spotted the smile of the
beautiful girl and he didn't even
hear the clink and the splash as
it slipped quicksilver fast between
the jail cell bars of the storm drain.
I tell you this story because I really
don't want to have to explain the
ring I found on the internet with
your birthstone in it, or the numbered
papers collecting in my back pocket
Tell me something reckless. One day
you tucked your fingertips beneath mine
and spun me ice skating across the
grease of the cafeteria dance floor.
The click of camera shutters drew
sunspots on the insides of my eye
lids and your shirt was made of
thousands of strands of threads
each one twisted tight and wound
flat into the pattern of the fabric
and if one of them cut loose every
once in a while I wasn't about
to say a single thing to you of it
Tell me something faded. There was
a weekend when I spent all day
scrubbing the stain of their words
from between the folds of your favorite
sweatshirt and then I put it in the
dryer so that when you put it on
the warm cocoon would burn
away the residue until you were
light enough to fly away again
Tell me something nourishing. Even
though she'd asked me for my
homework, I blurted out the sky's
name and then yours in quick
succession but she just smiled quietly
and shrugged the paper from my
fingers and told me the bell had
rung five minutes ago so I should
get out of her classroom with all
her good wishes and luck in my veins
Tell me something frantic. Once I
considered swallowing a magnet
because I needed something heavy
to keep me tied down when the
butterflies tried to float me off
the ground by my stomach
every time I thought of you
Tell me something frozen. I
drove the dust bunnies out from
under my bed because I didn't
want them to eat at the box of
photographs and memories of you
that I buried there to stop them
from dissolving in the bruising sun
light. I talked cryogenics with
you over coffee and you giggled
the entire time because you
thought I had made it all up
just to make you laugh. Which
was really only half of a lie
Tell me something loved. I hate
speaking things like this out
loud because the air is endless
but these syllables are finite and
I'm terrified that their shape
will be lost in the void. But at
least it's better than writing it
down because on paper there is a
word between the I and the You
which is almost half an inch wide
and that is half an inch more
space than there needs to be.
I love reading on long car rides. When you've scanned the last page and closed the cover, you have nowhere to escape to. And so you sit and ponder and consider until something like this pops out.
Alternate Title: You Asked For Poetry (I Gave You Words)
Alternate Title: You Asked For Poetry (I Gave You Words)
© 2011 - 2024 kazumisangel
Comments5
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i like the line breaks here. it's jumbled in the sort of way that would add to the tone of the piece, i think.