ASPHYXIUM ZINE

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Poem: 'Intercession' by Heather Dawson

Intercession
Heather Dawson

Last night the heat lighting split the dark clouds rendering me speechless

I drove to get the kids through the narrow streets of the old part of town

People on their porches
Watching the display as if Grucci Brothers had assembled all the
gunpowder in their arsenal

The fear crept in me but I reminded myself 'alone is your state of being:
You are solitary and singular
All your play acting won't change that my dear'

Safely collected the swelter continued at home all stuffed into the coolest room

My first mistake was reaching in the fridge for the cool remains of
Sauvignon Blanc left from the weekend

My second was trying to be connected through crass humor that men engage in

My flippant course remarks piercing you like a piece of steel wool under a nail

And you came back with a sword through my chest

Or maybe it was the other way

I have no recourse
No intermediary or intercession

You were in pain and I twisted salt in that hole in your heart

I am deeply wounded to know my carelessness is so freely wandering the earth

Let's be clear - this should not be about my pain at loosing you - but
about your horror at seeing your one stalwart crumble to common
crudeness

If I make amends how would that look ? It's not right to ask but if
you drew me a map could I return to your heart - that small place you
had reserved for me?

I humbly request you to take up cartography for me

Until then I remain in deep supplication at your riding boots ... Your
converse ... Your sand..

Last night the heat lighting split the dark clouds rendering me speechless

I drove to get the kids through the narrow streets of the old part of town

People on their porches
Watching the display as if Grucci Brothers had assembled all the
gunpowder in their arsenal

The fear crept in me but I reminded myself 'alone is your state of being:
You are solitary and singular
All your play acting won't change that my dear'

Safely collected the swelter continued at home all stuffed into the coolest room

My first mistake was reaching in the fridge for the cool remains of
Sauvignon Blanc left from the weekend

My second was trying to be connected through crass humor that men engage in

My flippant course remarks piercing you like a piece of steel wool under a nail

And you came back with a sword through my chest

Or maybe it was the other way

I have no recourse
No intermediary or intercession

You were in pain and I twisted salt in that hole in your heart

I am deeply wounded to know my carelessness is so freely wandering the earth

Let's be clear - this should not be about my pain at loosing you - but
about your horror at seeing your one stalwart crumble to common
crudeness

If I make amends how would that look ? It's not right to ask but if
you drew me a map could I return to your heart - that small place you
had reserved for me?

I humbly request you to take up cartography for me

Until then I remain in deep supplication at your riding boots ... Your
converse ... Your sand..

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