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Kaith Karishma Oct 2017
Contemplation, rumination, damnation:
all things that happen more in this cell than elsewhere.
This cell.
I won’t be here much longer,
and there’s not a word you can say that can help me now.
The terror of the night keeps me awake.

Agitation, anticipation, rationalization:
thoughts whirl around in my head and
you don’t understand—I can’t
control them.
I wipe my brow.
The introspection causes my chest to quake.

Explanation, elucidation, machination:
that this must not be my fault.
I’m innocent!
But—how can I show them, show you
what made me,
the terror that caused in me a break?

Justification, accusation, realization:
It was the world that did this—it was
my mother, my father, my brother
my teacher, my preacher,
my—you. You fade into me
and it’s this understanding that begins my shake.

Consternation, hesitation, cessation:
I have no one left to blame,
I’ve been abandoned by even
my folly, our folly.
Really now,
I should have known how long this would take.

Capitulation, resignation, preparation:
With a sound besides my brain—klink go the keys—
the understanding bubbles up
as bile hits my throat and
it’s time, “it’s time” ring at once
Even the terror can’t keep me awake.
Kaith Karishma Oct 2017
Her ugly salmon sneakers
hang by ratty shoelaces when she takes them from the vendor.
I tell her to toss them lest she get a disease
from her gross salmon sneakers.
Her garish salmon sneakers
pitter-patter gladly, mocking me and staying forever.
She says she won’t ever buy another pair since
she’s got her salmon sneakers.
Her silly salmon sneakers
stay on even through our reception, our vows, and our wedding.
Though I do finally get them off that same night,
her wondrous salmon sneakers.
Her busted salmon sneakers
trip her up before she steps in front of a speeding driver.
As I scold her, I don’t even think I’m grateful
to her old salmon sneakers.
Her galling salmon sneakers
always stay two steps ahead of me and everyone she knows.
If only they outpaced the ones she didn’t know,
her ******* salmon sneakers.
Her stupid salmon sneakers
never grace her feet again, and I know she’d have hated that.
I don’t care because that’s all I have left of her,
her ****** salmon sneakers.
Her dreary salmon sneakers
seem so lifeless without her because she was what gave them life.
And I wish with all that’s left that she was there, not
her hollow salmon sneakers.

— The End —