Hold my hand
In my predisposition to crying at night, I see that
the pity and the jealousy go hand in hand.
I keep trying these clothes on,
taking them off;
wet lies, tired crimes,
lost men, I sail to.
Flip a coin and come to wonder
if I hadn’t been great enough to carry,
or if I have been browsing the market
for something they do not sell.
Skipping like rocks over stars,
you know you can’t change the weather.
Yet perhaps we know god when we worship
the things out of our control.
——
the way things end
I’m suddenly reminded
of the way things end;
my body becoming the neighborhood.
They would never tell me about
the depth your knees take in the gravel
when the wind is too strong.
They would speak in hushed voices,
saying that your strongest muscles
lie in your heart, no longer your legs.
My eyes can’t focus and everything is happening
so wrong on this side, so wrong such that wisteria does not grow.
All in the places you would not go, water turns to ice,
and paper turns to ash–
I can start an argument in an empty room, then wonder
if it’s possible for everyone on earth to get what they want;
Rather than it be that humans are perpetual beings,
haunted by greener pastures.
——
Planetary Body
At this time,
I relished learning when I was young
to be diplomatic in my voice,
I hope Jove is listening.
I carry a sugar cube in my pocket
to be able to pay
for his love
down the line.
I paved this path with my
bare hands, so it would be
a great tragedy to dissolve like
the grand currency in my possession.
Asking in tepid whispers if I can have it all,
to see me in the ways you do,
to hear the green wobble
in the sound of solitude.
To have the bed of roses
is to be the tourist.
——
Victim – Poughkeepsie, NY
I’ll wish that we had met under different circumstances,
two clouds that never touch.
Or a bird save the branch, willing to perch again.
Water on a car window, water to my lips,
and at some point, you could have been the sky,
and I would have been the light looking to hit just right.
The wonder it would have been to inhabit you,
the wonder it would have been.
Sometimes I fly and hold my breath,
just to feel nothing, until I reach you once again.
——
Poetry © Justin Demmitt
Image: Image: MS Co-Pilot remixed