Yes, I delayed the flight;
I paused to watch the candle flicker in my living room and make a tangible list of things from the last year that had brought me a sense of joy, I put an end to all those plans you said you’d make
even if I wasn’t there to see them, it doesn’t matter now,
all your Diptyque tributes and boulders won’t bring you back;
all your woodsmoke and playlists mean nothing now.
Cobbling together a legacy is meaningless without connection;
Writing and writing and writing into the ether, the squeamishness of peeling back layers to expose bone.
The pithiest and prettiest of my affections winnowed down into
digestible chunks, chapbooks, candles melting onto glass that is later
scraped off, holed away, inert, or just
dead;
there are days when I put my most treasured pieces on the bottom rack of the dishwasher,
and turn away, knowing
that there are days when I don’t.
There are days I feel good,
and days that I don’t.
I tried to find moments that made it worth the risk of walking,
I tried to look for breaks in the sky that made it safe to fly.
-C.
camionneuse 