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December 2016

by Johanna May

I. Every Boy Crying

Because he took you from me
he also took the exact pitch of your cry

II. Too

A pillow of hope
Made from poetry
Is where I lay my head on
Since you were taken from me
I pull the hours like a blanket over me
And will to forget your small missing form
You were the pillar that held
Dreams without sharp corners, Keats said beauty
Keeps a bower of quiet for us, and sleep full of sweet dreams,
And health, and quiet breathing.
You do not know the worth of anything,
Until it has been taken away.
I pray no one learns this
Like I do.
No one uses the word: "too"
Before every word that describes a nightmare.

IV. Silly

Without you
The anchor that rooted me
To the ways of the world
Is precarious
Why are there beds?
You can sleep on a mat on the floor
Why are there spoons?
You can wait for the food to cool
And eat with your hands
Why is everything this size or that color?
Alone in a country
After my own was invaded
The only other citizen taken
The hurt is sharply real
Contrasted against each silly
Conditions
That sought to prove my love
Quantifiable by our history
Because no one witnesses
The fresh dew mornings
I kept to shelter you
Nor the dumbing of the heart
To bear injustice
So you could get more love
Other than mine

V. Filament

Muscle strings of time
Pinched out of shape
If time walks
This is her broken season
Part tear, part salvation
Because where there is wound
There is poultice
I will keep the scar,
The war
That shook you far
One day
When pain is less obvious
I will flex what once ached
And show you how I knew
Between this day
Cut in two--today writing
And today reading back--
I fought to have you

12/25/2016

Posted on 12/02/2018
Copyright © 2024 Johanna May

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