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Robyn Kekacs Nov 19
With my head all the way under I can hear it
The drain from the overflow
My lengthy breaths like brush strokes
The tinny crack of a joint in the vacuum, in the lone lake of one
The closest I’ll ever be to a sea monster
Not in a legend way, but in the way I’ll never be as still
I’ll bring my hand up and over, ride with the mist up out of the four rounded walls
The archipelagos of my body are many. They don’t all fit beneath the surface
I wonder if islands feel fractured, vulnerable and sparse
Or if they feel fortunate to be earth and sea
The water always tinges green, from my hair, no matter how many washes I’ve done
Like the way a green glass wave might be harnessing the sky
All I’m missing are rocks to tumble and coast to encroach on
Then I might feel what it means to watch something soften
Then maybe I’d know what it means to watch something roll under me so easily I don’t even notice as it leaves.
Robyn Kekacs Aug 16
For as long as I can remember
I’ve wanted to be older
Older than I was
Old, like my friends’ parents
I couldn’t stand being reduced to kids menus
Cold grilled cheeses and apple juice
I wanted to drink wine like a 29 year old that had two jobs,
But not for the money - just to keep herself busy
I wanted to be old enough to be mad at someone and have it matter
Old enough to never have a tantrum again
Or to drive a car with all the windows down on the highway.
To live alone and only be a little scared
“Talk like a kid, eat at the kids table, you can’t give adults money in birthday cards, you’re too young to know”
So many rules from a group of people who didn’t have any
And so I did grow up.
Worked too many hours and stayed up late on the weekdays
Skipped some 8am classes and tattooed a dead bird on my upper thigh and still I’m so young
So much younger than when I was 9 and sure about every fact I made up
More naive than a child that saved all her money and counted it on the living room carpet
Less knowing than someone who would have a bedtime and ****** strawberry daiquiris. Saw her friends often and didn’t relay all my mistakes to anyone I met just to make sure
I’m still good
When I’m too old to be so wise for my age,
or an old soul,
I hope that means I will finally be myself
That me and time will meet in the middle of a familiar place
And continue our conversation like two old friends
And walk without looking behind us.
Robyn Kekacs Dec 2021
I’m a soft moan in the mewing darkness
Our skin is see-through just around the edges
Paler than we might remember
Softer. Always softer in a way not weaker
I follow my own line of symmetry
All the way up my body and out of Breath
Beneath the sea there’s more earth but never more than there are stars. Above you
There’s no other. Above you
There never was.
Robyn Kekacs Aug 2020
There are two things I’ve had closest to a fear
Needles,
And my own uncertainty
My insides wince when I see either or both
In the same room
Lit by the same gritty flame
Parked next to each other on the couch and gripping two glasses
Of mid shelf
They both look at me with a gaslit glare
They’re not there, or not in the way
At least
I know my moms arms are
The grass when it makes my back itch
A book when I flip it through like I know what I’m seeing.
Their eyes follow me to the back of my head and
The roots of my fiberglass brain
I haven’t showered, in days.
Robyn Kekacs Feb 2015
Not like eggs in a frying pan
Prying them shyly as to not burn your breakfast
It's not like
the leaves as their moisture dissipates
as their color fades
Its spine rolling forward, rolling up onto its edges,
Its legs.
It can be something like
The way a dress fits snugger
On your torso, when it looked so wide, laid flat.
The circumference, the girth, of a moment
Underestimated.

But if even water shrinks when frozen
How much smaller is my mind
when my molecules stop moving,
when my motives less inclined?

I'm not stepping back from ledges
I'm not broken, on the mend
I'm just pulling away from the edges
Pulling away again.
Robyn Kekacs Dec 2014
Wasn't I wanted
When I was there?
Your four sides to these long rides
of your square?

So say it, I don't want your copy and paste
I want your old broken self
Filled with liquor, and haste

The way shelves of fine China used to crash down
Inside of your chest when no one was around
You would grapple and shake, you would fall to the ground
And you'd cry
You'd cry.
Only I knew that sound.

I wish I weren't sour
Wish my thoughts about you
Didn't seize up and freeze the moment that they come through

I also wish you'd stop acting
Like I'm an asset of the past
Like you are happy now at last
You should see the way it hurts me.
It's selfish to act like I'd cross rivers for you
When you know I don't swim, unless you're drowning, too.
Robyn Kekacs Nov 2014
My hair gets caught in everything and I,
I'll never really learn to sing
I'm alive and all my limbs, their working
I should get it the **** together.

But I forgot to mention how I'm shaped like a square
How my legs will not pass that eight minute mark
I eat til I'm sick and I'm afraid of the dark
I am space unfiltered.

If people are acidic then I am a base,
There's no thing I've not done that is not in bad taste
I'm a good person only cause if not, I'm a waste
I feel jilted.

A casserole of other peoples roaming vices
Not mysterious enough to be considered lifeless
It's not dreadful, or sad
It's not even a crisis

The prescription exists and it says to just fade
Just fade until the ground becomes sky
Not depressing, nor anguished
I've already complied

I'm here to check names and recognize faces.
I'm here to watch people fill their perfect circle spaces.
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