The Tempest Cannot Build Without Air 8.23.24
come fewer and farther
time between thunderclaps
stretches
voids between arcs
I think I---
know myself
can navigate
the things I want
build in me like charges
hairs on end
teeth bared
frisson turned into a fear of self
sit in the silence,
stare at the still silver surface
until it--
until *he* comes
bursting out of my mouth
lightning strike
wanting
demanding
I clap my hands over my mouth
stuff the gale of his voice down my throat
the voices of men
my father
brothers
lovers
"friends" who stayed
while churning you into pieces like
leaves in the updraft
of a funnel
until everything I touch
even the peaceful
freckle faced
sun kissed
perfect days
swept into spiral inflow bands
lashing debris
sucked into the
path that is me
this is why I don't ask for things
best that I not breathe or speak
or want or need
the tempest cannot build without air
