“Silence” and “Contending with ‘You’ After You Are Gone”
We still dream continents apart, with not a waterbody
in between. Still, I dreamt you
a shark. Grayscale & soundless. I was afraid,
of course, as usual. Not of death
or that you’ll be the one to kill me. We both
saw that coming, didn’t we?
And still dove, hands-first, into the glistening,
algae-rotten lake of sleep.
You, the shark, behind a glass cage of a mega
aquarium. Jelly replacing
water—cheaper & available. Of course,
I couldn’t tell you what
I wanted, or you would know & leave,
or stay—soundless still.
Of course, you couldn’t speak, or
I would know when to wake up.
Contending with “You” After You Are Gone
Again, you came
to me in a dream. Again, you asked
me to take off all my clothes.
I don’t know what’s better: to dream of you
or not. I don’t know what’s painful:
to want separation in togetherness, or togetherness
in separation. I will never be happy
or that is what I think for now.
My mother says I’m hungry
after you. I can’t tell if she had wanted
to say for or if she really means my appetite comes
secondary. Although, I am
lessening even further: reading essays on heartbreak & anti-
love poems, despising the moon in all its shapes.
Do you remember how much I despised heartbreak
poems? As if it is all there is to the world. It is all there is
to the world. Again, A. sent me an Aubade this morning.
I’ll be honest with you, my only worry was you.
And anyway, if I wanted to write letters, I would write some fucking