|
push the poem out your retinas.
(i am unfeeling, a diaphragmatic breather
street
walking pumpkin eater)
i am Rosalind — our outcome obsolete
not so tragic as a true love
i was cast away so
quickly, an uninterested
object of desire. i don’t believe in soul mates
i promised myself to paper weights
pushing
the poem out, out out
(i am unfeeling, a discerning side stepper
a sleepwalking leper. did you know this
when
you loved me? i’m not love kissed
sucking marrow from tomorrow
i don’t kiss. i spit and burrow.)
you
teased me when i told you
(i take naps) “like a todder!” voice
sailing up, it frayed at the top
you’re
a splintery rope, arm far too tan
suckled in the sleeves of polos and you
hated movies about zebras. Don’t listen
to me
i’m bitter brained and far too laughlined
I have been your Rosalind, the warm up round
the rough draft
the
one who’d never kill herself for you because she
never did know where to place her hands.
formalities aside,
i spent my days bored in front of
nature shows ignoring you, you never called me
beautiful just followed me smelling
of axe cologne
you never liked books and the possibility in
love splintered looks was the knot that kept you close
i’m
gold medal evasive, never knowing when the carousel
has slanted off its axis and careened into a brown haired
laugh-tongued
galaxy
you leapt into forget
and love
and Juliet
pushed the life out of her heart and redefined
still everyone
forgets about Rosalind
for she is married
married
married
to the lovers in her mind.
Kathleen Radigan is a high school student. Her work
has previously been published in the Newport Review, Certain Circuits Magazine, Obsidian Eagle's Blashemous Bazaar,
Slow Trains, and Innisfree poetry.
|
