We sit in silence,
the plants and I,
and I am less lonely for them being here
and maybe they are less dead
for me keeping them alive.
I sent a message to a near stranger
that said please laugh,
please remember this one thing about
what we’re all doing here.
I sent him a nicely-wrapped distraction
that I hoped would ring three times
before connecting him to the hotline
where another stranger might say to him
please don’t die.
And who am I
to disturb his death?
As if so keen to peace
and aware of
all of its strong-willed suggestions,
unfamiliar with a certain breed
with a mouth brimming with sharp teeth
that we keep chained up
until the peace stops minding
serving as a reminder
that there are many languages
in which to feel
What a shame, really,
that often it’s the ones who feel it most
that are so quick
to let it go,
to take the chain off of truth’s swollen neck
and let it sink every single one of its teeth
into all of the blood and all of the meat
of an animal that died
so we could feel
a little bit more
of all of this.
Day #30 of #nationalpoetrymonth: Cover image: Eduard Miliaru