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how will you choose to remember
by Ava Bluoften awkward becomes comfortable to me,
when the moments slip too far open and i no longer feel
lonely
i am ridiculed because they think i am strong,
they see something that isn't there
because it's easier than looking directly into the sun
the shade from the trees linger along my spine
and i come up for air,
i come up for a moment just for the air
to fill my mind
the whites of my eyes are becoming black,
they are whispering in your ears
to turn around,
but don't come back home
i was sending out a red flag,
waving it through my hair
letting it touch the ground long enough to become grass-stained
you didn't see
you still think of me as strong,
even when i am holding on tightly to anything i can,
balancing my feet on the back of every wall
i was always in the corner
hiding with an umbrella under my coat
just waiting for rain
tonight i sit on the back of your car though,
waiting to be held
holding a lighter to your throat
just one more time
awkward becomes normal
when i lose control of my limbs
and find a way
to suppress it all.
11/26/2009 Posted on 11/27/2009
Copyright © 2024 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/27/09 at 04:01 AM There's a lot of imagery (a lot of stunning imagery, at that, and I'm thinking in particular of that fourth stanza) going on here, seemingly even more than usual for you, and it all seems to be somewhere under your coat with that umbrella. This poem starts out with a grip that seems to only know what the finger nails are capable of. That grip takes a beating through this powerful bit of storytelling, but it obviously doesn't end with you letting go and dropping off. You're still there, and that's nothing less than the best ending possible. The rest of us need people who can report on the inner workings as breathlessly and brilliantly as you do. I can't think of enough good things to say about this. |
| Posted by V. Blake on 11/27/09 at 04:05 AM "awkward beomes normal / when i lose control of my limbs / and find a way / to suppress it all." A more poignant way to finish this poem could not have been asked for. Lovely. :) |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/10/10 at 07:40 PM Suppressing things is one way to control. But it is not always easy to suppress what we want most. It seems to come out in the most awkward ways sometimes. |
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