curving inward
away from the packed suitcases
moving into the rose
quiet in the bundle of the peg lights
a doll whispers about being on display
about the death of feminism
the intersections of being inatimate
stripped of covering
surrounded by cloth
the swings pout in the windows
the chill keeps farmers hands out of dirt
the frost creates in ways we cannot
and the touch of the walls is velvet
is acrylic paint, is object jutting
the onions in the pan are browning
the oil hops up and halts on stomach
everything is panneled
conglomerate, patched, zero waste
a compost larger than a parking space
imagining our solutions for landfills
imagining the reflections of who we have been
planning to leave a gift of words
to send paper across country
even egg cartons will fall
all of this will falter
all of this will crash, disburse, forget, remember
a fabric child is older than we
she is staring
unable to blink, to escape, to step back,
how lucky, to be mobile
though just having wheels or legs is not enough
how much crying will we do before we realize
we are not bound
how much longer will i pretend that i can last
when i picture you
your eyes are averted
the hiding, the distance
i want to be able to say i will wait
i wish that i could promise it to you
but i am angry
angry that you cant snap forward for us
step into what we were once building
i see that you are trying, love
i do.
i need to know if i am trying.
if i am willing, or forcing, or flowing.
all of this is nonsense in this moment.
i am not going anywhere.
but i may,
i have to let you know that i may.
it only seems fair, though it is heartbreak in letters and being stuck to stare at the weapon.
i will freeze and sit on a shelve, never age, but wear away and display the past for you. memories only molecular. memories only dust.