i’ll fly away
last day of classes. tomorrow. i’ve been so busy being busy that i haven’t thought about the momentousness. indeed, even as i write these words, they signify nothing. how very postmodern.
three days straight, i found something to cry about. today my store of righteous indignation carried me through rough situations and fuzzyhappy 60’s-style love for the sunlight carried me through the rest. that formula works as well as johnson & johnson shampoo to produce No More Tears.
also, i guess, today didn’t put itself out to make me feel tiny and worthless the way monday, tuesday, and wednesday did. it did, on other hand, make me want to write poetry, specifically my friend stefanie’s lovely reading. i haven’t decided whether it’s useful to post drafts here but without workshops i’m not sure how else to solicit commentary.
oh, what the fuck. i’m a senior.
my last day at hapkido
one twist
and the world shifts, the mat rises like a wave,
blue like a wave, reminding me of whale watching
where, instead of watching whales, i watched a porthole
as sea and sky squabbled for space
to peer back in at mesee-sick
another twist
and i can feel the sea filling my eyes
to get a glimpse of this man who, with that grin
and that motion, could be removing
the cap from a bottlei’m recalcitrant. i should be bursting
open with a shout of foam, an amber wave
i should be hitting the floor, content to blink
as sea and sky and others in the class squabble for space
to peer back in at mebut this is not a whale watching trip: i swore
i’d never, never again and this man
as big to me as he would be to a bottle
is supposed to be my peer
He twists again, and then.so many mornings of schoolbus nausea
i prayed through, kneeling on toilet-white tile, while
the nurse, accustomed to my ministrations, worked
outside i didn’t always vomit but
i lost my faith in that unhelpful god.
and that day, in the bathroom, away from that grinning
watching, watching the welts
undulate on my arms, i thought never, never again.