May 2 - Isolated Events
by Jason Wardell
I've been recording isolated events,
as another year twists around me,
with pushpins in my ceiling.
I met a girl whose presence was like laughter
not mocking but warm, filling, and exhausting.
We talked at length for one day and she revealed
she wanted me to be her other other man
while she pined for the guy she really loved
from two thousand miles away.
I watched the terminal velocity of my brother
far out of earshot, further from reach.
He'd discovered the fastest way to his own heart
was intravenous injections and blistering lungs
and he thinks I'm apathetic, but I think I'm just mute
from a lonely larynx.
I had a job doing menial labor in a pressure cooker,
doing my laundry four times a week.
I cut clean through a safety glove,
careful to not spill any blood on the floor
and narrowly avoiding worker's compensation
one week before I was fired.
I moved into and out of a house
and did not receive my security deposit
because of four pinholes in the ceiling.
Author's Note: 1:14am-11:43pm. This is really how this year is going to go.
Posted on 05/03/2009
Copyright © 2022 Jason Wardell
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Samiah Haque on 05/03/09 at 11:39 AM|
|Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/03/09 at 01:44 PM|
Incredibly storytelling power wrapped in some excellent poetic verse. This is the kind of piece you could quite possibly write forever, but you give us just enough to get our interest. I especially love the first image.
|Posted by Ava Blu on 05/04/09 at 12:31 AM|
You don't write often, which leaves me a bit sad, but when you do...wow...it's just awesome and blows me away.
|Posted by Kris Mara on 05/06/09 at 05:02 PM|
this is excellent -- there are some great internal sounds in this -- I love the reality of it
|Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 05/24/09 at 12:19 AM|
I feel guilty that this makes me as happy as it does. You're so beautifully succinct. I'm jealous.