the memory of a bruise

loneliness has
lingered like burnt skin
hung off the roof of a mouth;
ever present,
threatening everything
with a solitary promise;
nothing, nothing.
something new will grow
if you wait.
if you wait
it will rain too
and the sun will
and the sun will
be nothing again.

“how fantastic!”

but for now,
everything that is something
everything contacts.
everything connects.
everything measures.

the burden of a bruise
is in the swelling of its memory.
the black and blue of history.
the past that remains present
only because i don’t accept
until death accepts me.

i suppose it’s my problem
with rejection that
from suicide.
i couldn’t handle such grand
i’d kill myself again.

what a joke!

knock on the door louder.
check all the windows.
i hear them breathing in there;
the children, their mother.
i left sunflowers at my sister’s door
the day of her funeral.
she wouldn’t open the door.
she wouldn’t answer her phone.
that’s poetry!
the same rejection.
the same.
it rhymes; that rejection,
it rhymes!
again and again and again.

written on 08/31/2015 by: Matt Kane