Poetry |

“The Next Day” and “Really”

The Next Day

 

 

I am alive at dawn I am alive because

I am quick I am alive cast in the bronze

 

light of a November sick I am alive

deep in the recesses of a dark ark I am

 

alive every time death forgets to breathe

I am alive for just a few real moments

 

I am alive gut and angle I am alive high

above the scrap heap I am alive if living is

 

the opposite of ease I am alive jowl

and grit I am alive knee to spleen I am

 

alive low in the animal hum I am alive

more like a wave than a particle I

 

am alive now that the infidels have been

rousted from the towers I am alive or

 

I am a symptom of aliveness others curate

to recognize the seed I am alive pacing

 

the temporary autonomous zone I am

alive quick against the hush I am alive red

 

livered and warm in the pulverized dreg I

am alive so that the dead might be nightly

 

sung I am alive the next day and thrum

through each braided strand of my sorrow

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

Really

 

 

It’s as difficult as remembering

not to breathe it’s become difficult

 

to metaphorically sketch the parameters

of pain it’s clearly difficult for a single person

 

to articulate it’s difficult in the sense that

it’s possible it’s difficult even when the least

 

obstruction has been removed it’s forming

difficult alliances it’s grown difficult

 

to separate the shadow from the forecast

it’s hardly difficult to see it’s in difficulty

 

that we trace the will’s eel-like glow it’s just

difficult it’s killingly difficult to breathe it’s less

 

difficult if you know that pain has

a terminus it’s more difficult if

 

you perceive the sun as a predator and not

a comfort I mean it’s not difficult it’s impossible

 

it’s only difficult in the sense that an alternative

occurs to you it’s placing difficult words

 

in the crowded mouth of hope it’s quite difficult

to imagine it’s really difficult to forget if you

 

become one of the few that manages to survive it

Contributor
Chris Martin

Chris Martin’s fourth book of poetry, Things To Do In Hell, will be published by Coffee House Press in fall 2020 and his first book of essays, May Tomorrow Be Awake: On Poetry, Autism, and Our Neurodiverse Future is forthcoming from HarperOne. He is the recipient of grants from the Mellon Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Minnesota Humanities Center. He is the co-founder and executive director of Unrestricted Interest, organization dedicated to helping neurodivergent learners transform their lives though writing. He lives in Minneapolis, where he also teaches at Hamline University and Carleton College.

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