Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Jessica Piazza

Eremophobia
Fear of loneliness or of being oneself


Hi I. Hi me, on this, a birthday. Hi,

internal eye of this year's storm. Hello

you: point without an exclamation. Wave

a single hand, then wave the other, pair

them off. A sacrifice concise as this:

pity your pity today, and let it lie.

An alibi for a scoffing enemy.

Myself, and my most toxic company:

myself. These withered candles leak their wax.

What could these last wet decades turn, and wane.

Picture me, today, as a metronome.

I'm home, away, one way, the next, and strike

each hour, and strike again, a single tone,

one arm, one fist. Alone, exalt, against.

1 comment:

kiita said...

This is a moving poem. It's also eerily wonderful to find it on my birthday.