Prompt from Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg
Write of the sky inside you.
im sitting here nauseous and before, nearly threw up as i passed the last four subway stops before mine. some new anti-anxiety pill because the anxiety wont quit and i cant tell if it is just that im hungry or sick or terrified or in love.
i have to lay back lay down to settle into this sky, this body. it's night, the stars are peeking out through heavy congestion trying to line up in their constellation, they know the telescopes are out. even in the city they are everywhere. i grab a handful and shove them in my mouth, swallow, hope they will shine bright enough that you can see them sliding down my throat, see them without turning me inside out.
your words: "have you looked at the moon? i love you like a full moon, when i look up and squint and press my fingers around the ring, the glow."
i hold onto this image. i wrote it down with all the other beautiful twists of words that are simply how you speak and these words collect and collect and collect. tender hearted words. and worlds. all of these new ones opening up and suddenly every damn thing i write comes back to you. this has never happened before. i have never tried to write like how skin feels as the touch softens me. once, i wrote a poem early into a new relationship and then didnt pick the pen back up until she had left me. the words poured out, all of the ones i couldnt say when i was with her. then i could only write after loss. and then another time when i knew another relationship was over, i tried to pull it back together with words, zip them up in the bags we were carrying around, straining backs and shoulders.
but not with you. i try to write the way your smile looks. i try to write the way your voice sings on streets, in subways, your bedroom. i try to write the way you taste when we are almost asleep but our mouths are still on each other. i try to write the way you hold me tight when im almost crying because sometimes i cant find the words for why im crying and then i want to cry more. we are way past 23 days now and im still holding on, maybe even too tightly and i have so many new words.