Denial by James Redfern

                    Alexander Rabb CC



​Denial
 
 
Ever been so broken
that every morning
when you wake
you find yourself angry
at the overdose
for not taking hold?
 
Ever been so beat up
and trampled
by the dark horses
and the hot afternoon sun
that bloody sand
stands packed into the open blisters
decorating your spine
and skin and cerebellum?
 
Ever been so taken with hubris
that you’ve conscripted every god,
prophet, demon, and messiah,
to work in the basement or garage
cooking up drugs,
loading up shells,
and sewing up wings
for you to use at your own discretion?
 
Ever been so psychotic
and lacerated at the lobes
that you see the rushing visages of divinity
in the rustling leaves
on every tree
growing at the shoulder
of every road
as you drive blind
down the midnight highway?
 
Ever been so dead inside
that breathing air
and pursuing sustenance and water
appear to be pastimes
ridiculous and vain
and entirely ineffectual
at keeping manic apathy at bay.
 
Ever been so thoroughly depressed
that even the sweetest tar boiling over
the rim of the most ample spoon
can’t bring with it even the slightest relief
after it’s pumped out
through cotton
booted three times
and finally sent home.
 
Ever been so numb
and anesthetized  
that even the stars
and the colors
of the rising and dying sun
take on the meanings of gravity
and the hues of perverted cartoons?
 
Ever been so down
that nothing else mattered
except the raw belief
in the rough concrete
working the soles
of your feet
and the underside of your body?
 
Ever been so high
that you lost sight
of the gnarly
kite strings
stretching out
from your sternum,
shoulders, crown, and toes,
running all the way down
to the brittle ground so far below?
 
Ever been so far out of reach
that even the dockhands
along the banks of the River Styx
make no effort
to extend a rope
or a helping hand
or a place to unload
your soul meat on trust
without a formal bill of lading?
 
Ever been so shattered
and so destitute
that even your best friends
and your own children
won’t open the door
when you knock?
 
Yeah, me neither.



​
James Redfern was born and raised in Long Beach, California.  Redfern is a graduate of Grinnell College.  His work has been published by Whizdome Press, Great Lakes Poetry Press, Fear and Loathing in Long Beach, Transcend, The American Journal of Poetry, Dime Show Review, Swimming with Elephants (forthcoming), Verity La: The Clozapine Clinic (forthcoming), Montana Mouthful (forthcoming), and elsewhere.  He is the author of several novels (most recently HECATOMB) and several volumes of poetry (most recently Catfish in a Bowl Redux).