Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Michael Brownstein writes

A Half Life of Dissatisfaction

She gathered her insults, interruptions, cognitive dissonance,
laid them neatly on her favorite shelf of intolerance,
waited patiently for a metaphor to slap him in the face.

There is a thing called silence when your mouth is taped shut.
All you are able to do--are allowed to do--is listen
and listen and listen until all that is left to you is the great vomit 

inside of you. The problem is nothing comes out. 
You are holding an empty bag, but her entire collection
is now a part of your fabric, your makeup. And so it is.

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