← Writing
Poem
The temptation of the rusty nail
Apr 2025
My dream beginswith your wakingthe creeks and groansof your dousing yourselflike an autumnal branchshaking, with rain
Again we are youngIt is dark outsideAnd the night feels endlessWe've just metlying with spentmouths, liketwo gasping fishhoping to be caughtmid-fall
This must be the wicked temptationof the rusty nailWe are stuck
on the scarson the cheek,on rememberingour neglected woundsas defiance —
We are stuck
on the dirtin the cut,on red emergingfrom evergreen —
We are stuck
on our past lives,on the birdon the branch,its pines rainingdown like snowWhen my tongue curlsits forbiddensyllable, we are suddenly
earthbound. Though marredand breathless, hopehas not marked us. We are always
washed by our healing: the darkeningof our skin, a foreclosure of redinto evergreen —
This must be
the wicked temptation of the rusty nail:We have left us
and this is the last night,and earth cannot be heldby your hand
We have left us,
and this is the unfurling
of rain, the memory
of red,
evergreen, everything
that has been
taken, falling
around us
like snow —
But what if we have left usbecause Autumn
means we're new?
What ifAutumnis our first life?
If wehave never been we
spent could beour drunk newness,
the silver net,that cannot keep
rain or redleaves,but catchesusagain,again —