Rachel Hyman

Dear S-

Something inside me is spluttering. O static light  o expected morning--
       I guess I’m over and above. I’m the villain
                                                        in distress.

                   Every poem is a call for help or home.

--

Dear S-

Slouching into Sunday. If I were an anchor, I’d be covered in sweat and fish guts. How many sisters’ rooms have you known? You’re a Katamari ball of nervous energy and I’m chained to my brain, retired to this grave seriousness. I hate how I can never leave without saying goodbye. I bet that you don’t.

--

Dear S-

Life is a series of “time to go”s. Do you prefer people to look at you or past you? I walk anticipating entrapments. Life froths. Fall keeps turning in on itself. And everything is silent and trembling and alive with the feel of itself.

--

Dear S-

I miss all the places I’ve been. Can we get back again? Let’s loop-loop-swoop,
        wayfare & fear
until the dust settles & we swell.

--

Dear S-

Ambivalence reigns. I changed my shirt six times this morning.
I’ve resigned myself to always exist in relation to.

 

I can’t imagine being older than I am now. I can’t see myself.

You call this a mirror? Where are you now?

--

Dear S-

I feel restless & rudderless, adrift in a sea of misremembered dreams. You seem preoccupied
with the ground today. Hello, topsoil. Hello, rot.
I am queen again. Just for one day.

 

All poems by Rachel Hyman