allison-wrightWhisper

American
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A Lovely ConceptHe doesn’t understand that everything I take from him is a story, every word floating through the air, another line. He doesn’t know that my open mouth is the pen, my rolling eyes, the style. It doesn’t occur to him that he doesn’t know a thing about what his daughter might be thinking, because if he did, he would know what kind of novel she writes. / She is hardly a professional. She cannot fully comprehend metaphor, symbolism, allegory. For her, it becomes like another soul's voice, a trembling thing filled with a measure of ambiguity and a touch of wisdom, but still distant, still muddled. A lovely concept existing solely for the purpose of distraction. / No, for her, poetry must make sense from the beginning; it must make sense to everyone. If it doesn’t, then it is only words, a mishmash of thought and action made to look attractive. It is simple: if she hears a work is bad, it is bad, if she thinks a thought is stupid, the thought is stupid. Her reality is the true reality, thus, words are only a reality if they are hers.
4
Aug 10, 2011
Another MealSometimes we have dinner together. / All she can do is *talktalktalk* about food and her family’s obsession with food and how much she loves *pizzaicecreambeefchocolatepastadonutscheese* while she stares at her plate as her fork twirls the spaghetti around and around and around until it’s only particles, only dust, and somehow there will be a little less there than there was before but she'll be saying something about how it's *notasgood* as back home, back home where she must eat fifty meals a day with all the food she’s tried. / She isn’t fooling anyone and she knows it, but it doesn’t matter because it's the pretending that keeps her alive.
3
Oct 1, 2011
Better NameThey call you **** / I call you **** / But Gay would be a better name
4
Jul 6, 2011
Bright EyesGlasses hiding Bright Eyes / As he tells his tale. / Narrow eyebrows, such skepticism
10
Jul 6, 2011
Desert GroundWhen I open my eyes / I know he’s gone. / It’s desert ground I’m standing on.
10
Jul 7, 2011
DisappointmentLove and stay / for the mystery. / Drink and wait
7
Jul 6, 2011
Eloi, EloiSee it with open hands / Letters two or three / The answer that I need
16
Jul 6, 2011
EmmaI never held his hand, in truth. / I never felt his eyes on mine, I confess. / I never walked beside, nor brushed past
7
Sep 11, 2011
EndingI am but a half-closed eye / An almost, yet hardly there. / I am but curled fingers and scattered anger
20
Jul 6, 2011
ExchangeHave you ever gone from feeling so alive to so dead all at once? / Just from one action, one choice. / It makes me laugh.
5
Jul 6, 2011
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