There may be rules against reblogging your own post, but if there are, I’m not conscious of them.
To be honest, I guess because it’s based on the experience of a more-or-less stranger, I’ve always felt this poem as something external to me, even if I wrote it.
Recently, though (see my poem “Sophia” for more info), I’ve finally gotten what it means to say you’ve forgotten someone, but then to be stuck with the little things that they left you with. And so I guess this poem isn’t quite so foreign anymore.
He wakes at 2PM alone,
but at 6AM when with someone
She opens her eyes.
Easily, it would have been metal
jarring guy jaws, gaping maws.
But she warps him completely
with her voice
acoustic, his musical horizons.
He’s doing lines of raw
under a photo, under glass.
She’s a crater,
marking impact on his earth.
He says he has moved on and
every thing, down to her eyelids,
and the shell of her ear carrying that whisper of
He still wakes up at 6AM.