I wrote this poem in my 20s and it appeared in my grad thesis. It’s one of the poems I wrote in my 20s I still feel fery loving toward. So it is pretty much done, but there are some lingering word choice questions. Every time I re-read it, I change one or two words and them change them back or to something else the next time. If you spot them let me know and if you have useful feedback, plaease share:
“You can’t / Lie down without turning your back / On someone.”
– James Galvin, “Testimony”
We lunch pleasantly
Converse pleasantly
Drink pleasant drinks
But do not bother to smile.
In the middle of the table
Beside the ketchup
Sits a plate of compromise
Should we live like painters—
Right up against the canvas?
“I know there is a forest around
Here somewhere,” you laugh
But a tear breaks loose.
You never learned
Passion is the dormitory of the young
Most your brethren moved long ago
To their own suburban spaces
But you wake In the night burning cold
From a nightmare where you bite
your own wrist gnawing
through ropes of compromise.
You ache at the bone
Long empty words rattle
your tendons droop like windsocks
When someone saves your life
You are obligated to save another
But you can’t stop
Running to and fro with your net and pliers
Catching every bird that falls from the sky
Pulling every thorn from every paw lifted
In your direction wears you and builds you
Like a sea wall,
Yet you are afraid to stop looking down
Afraid you might trip over the compromise
Delivered daily to your door.
Can one play chess without forfeiting pieces–
Letting each pawn die in combat
Unattached to a gambit’s string?
Don’t be idealistic,
It’s the same as being naïve.
You want to throw your body in front of regulations?
This is only paper
This is only a meeting
Sit down, calm yourself
I’ll bring you some coffee
And a nice slice
of frosted compromise