4/4/2022 Poetry by Aurora Bones mrhayata CC
Overdose (When I Learn for Certain that My Love Alone Could Never Save You) What there is sometimes we barely have words for. Like finding you on a worn green sofa. Gentle-white like daisies. Bone-white. Bathtub-white or like great sharks staring at the ceiling the way white cats can stare blue-eyed at ghosts I have not yet seen. if this illness can be identified then it’s not incomprehensible. Irreparable. If there’s a category for it then there must also be a cure. & so- I’m left groping & gasping & grasping at language. I wave the magic wand of words I name this to turn you into an Idea, something simplified, easily understood. Until you are formulated & almost accessible. You are silver-foiled, un-conscious of all my prosthetic flaws. Until I can say only: itislikeitislikeitislike it is. Until I reach that place beyond expression I can no longer speak but only gesture towards----. I am you are us. We are lost in bright white ether. we are skull-white & calling our namelessness; we are skin broken down to atoms broken down to molecules broken down to dark matter dancing around an empty space. Aurora Bones currently teaches research writing full-time in Southern Illinois. She earned her MA from Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville, and an MFA from Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. One day she hopes to live in a sustainable underground house, and to grow sunflowers on the roof of her home. Comments are closed.
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