Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#summing
(lost 13% of my baby) the littlest one turned three in May, haven’t seen her in the flesh since March, parents inform, all gone, they’ll be disappearing to another state, all of July, gonzo. I say go forth safely, that’s great. redefining social distancing. measured not in feet, or even by Sara B.’s borrowed ‘many the miles,’ but in longer specificities: maturities, weeks and months, parts of years, parts of lives, March, April, May, June, now July. five months. counted them on one hand, many times, at 3:00am cause I could not believe the summing of my subtraction somehow disappeared, from our calendars these monthly ** markings, months wiped clean permanently. did a quick calculation. we’ve lost 13% of her entire life, can’t be regained. her first: big girl bed, playing first video game,   another birthday party, candles extinguished by a single big girl blowing, dancing, dancing, and more, driving her scooter in the apartment, like only a mad woman can, (stuffed animal riding the handlebars,) blowing pretend Zooming belly kisses on her button, hiding neath the dining room table, her laughing uproariously, with never a “stop poppy.” 13%. a specific amount, a poem irretrievable, a blood loss, that can’t be transfused, plasma irreplaceable, containing antibodies to a specific virus Sorrow Unique-19 nah, nothing   it got nothing to do with that new forehead furrow, that slow-suddenly appeared. nah. “just, these are the days...”^
0
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
13% (the summing of my subtraction)
(lost 13% of my baby) the littlest one turned three in May, haven’t seen her in the flesh since March, parents inform, all gone, they’ll be disappearing to another state, all of July, gonzo. I say go forth safely, that’s great. redefining social distancing. measured not in feet, or even by Sara B.’s borrowed ‘many the miles,’ but in longer specificities: maturities, weeks and months, parts of years, parts of lives, March, April, May, June, now July. five months. counted them on one hand, many times, at 3:00am cause I could not believe the summing of my subtraction somehow disappeared, from our calendars these monthly ** markings, months wiped clean permanently. did a quick calculation. we’ve lost 13% of her entire life, can’t be regained. her first: big girl bed, playing first video game,   another birthday party, candles extinguished by a single big girl blowing, dancing, dancing, and more, driving her scooter in the apartment, like only a mad woman can, (stuffed animal riding the handlebars,) blowing pretend Zooming belly kisses on her button, hiding neath the dining room table, her laughing uproariously, with never a “stop poppy.” 13%. a specific amount, a poem irretrievable, a blood loss, that can’t be transfused, plasma irreplaceable, containing antibodies to a specific virus Sorrow Unique-19 nah, nothing   it got nothing to do with that new forehead furrow, that slow-suddenly appeared. nah. “just, these are the days...”^
Continue reading...
66