6.8.20 4:52p (Rationalization)

as years before, 
I find myself clinging to what is solid,
what can be dissected and understood

the residual damp of the bathroom fogging up the mirror
the cool supporting density of the slate tile, 
the comforting grip of my navy towel,

the desperate sob of my father's voice,
(or is it an echo of a digital translation of my father's voice?)
{feeling so close, but so far away}
begging for 'more time'
the loss of his oldest son reverberating
{so far away}
bouncing in the sink, 
vibrating the drain

my own sob escaping my chest like a cough 
in so many ways becoming the animal


inattentive of propriety
echoing the begging 
the begging
the begging
echoing the desperate pleading
for time that cannot exist
for just five more minutes
for time to say one thing that may be heard and understood
{as if that would ever satisfy us}

in any dimension close to this 
(in any world where we turned back the clocks, 
cursing our futures with a
'could-have-done' or 'would-have-done')

waves of rationalization crash and fold in
pulling me with their undertow into the warm salty-
on my own lips, licked and wiped away,
{feeling so far away} 
then something broken... or a hole perhaps

- an emotional representation of seeing a photograph cut in half
one side falls to the floor, 
slipping and turning through the still oxygen of the study 
landing facedown 

just out of reach -

there is too much to say and no way to say it, 
neither silence nor words seem to do this justice
{so far away}
both equally frustrate and simmer the lurid disquiet 


3 thoughts on “6.8.20 4:52p (Rationalization)”

    1. My father is still around. My brother passed just a couple days ago, quite suddenly.

      Yeah the cribbage board! That’s one that I made actually but my grandpa taught me how to play


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