Margin Notes

Literally things I scrawled in the margins of my Ecopoetics notes.  Maybe something will materialize.  Maybe it’s done growing.  Hard to say and know.

——-

the leaf on the tile floor

wheels and rails
metallic grind
over cricket cries

I feel your eyes glance skyward
as you silence my rings
I imagine your relief
when the return call
timed to miss me
is unanswered and
I hear your annoyance sighed
when my name flashes on
your screen once more

I am so unprepared for this world.

You read poetry aloud
drowning the room in
the slowest pour of gravel.
I feel it rise, steady,
into the caverns of my chest
“entering the bare body then
Not merely through the ears but through the skin”

You told me not to touch
the wound
would heal itself.
Unacknowledged it festered
abscessed, excised, scarred.

I am filling
page after page, my namesake
soaking in still wet ink
and you are writing a to-do list
mapping the week’s tasks.
I am sending
my words
into the ether now.
I want you to hold them, but
no part of these pages
merit your holding anymore.

You loved me so much
until you crossed the room
and realized me
beyond your imagination.

I recognize you only by the ink suspended in your skin.

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2 thoughts on “Margin Notes

  1. Oh my goodness, Lydia. Your words are making me feel a lot of things and you are brilliant and lovely and perfect to me and if we were both of the necessary orientation I would probably marry you. RUN ON SENTENCE OF INSANITY. I love you!!!

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