Ghosting; not as in disappearing
if this were five years ago, I’d be at work today
playing through pain
making meaning.
if this were four years ago, I’d be at work today
pulling rabbits out of any hat
masking wounds with enough magic
to keep us all wonder eyed.
if this were three years ago,
I’d be spinning out of trees
tipping over roots
and landing on my feet.
Everyone remembers when you stick the landing so well that details blur
apart from how you pulled your way
out of some ghastly depth.
The pulling
and the blurring
are as violent as they sound.
If this were two years ago
pulling would remove a curtain.
Bottoms fall out, and ceilings crack.
Partitions fall
and with them
notions of working unchanged.
If this were one year ago,
ghosts would be here
nagging my body
with its own feelings.
If this were today, I’d know those ghosts better.
I’d be awake at two am.
I wouldn’t work unchanged.
I wouldn’t conflate landing on my feet
with meanings
of grander intention.
I’d hear a voice ask me to sing
twinkle twinkle,
and I’d move towards her.
If this were…
I’d here playing over the words
You don’t want to scream
the question,
whats the next song?
I’d pause on the words;
everything would make me cry.