J.L. Conrad
IN WHICH WE GET BOGGED DOWN IN INESSENTIALS
I’d been meaning to get rid of it all: the empty
dresses, shoes meant for dancing on a single occasion,
the endless procession of books. The half-moon inches
its way overhead. It’s broken, the child says. When I get bigger,
I’ll fix it. I never promised my heart would be easy
to carry. Thin metal bands bisect the city, slicing
off one end from the other. Someone has stolen
the canaries, the ones meant to show danger in each
sealed room. Trees wait in their armor. Everything is beginning
to conspire against us, the fine machinery of our bodies
giving way, the soup churning under its skin.
I want you to know that today I’ll be taking
the pie-in-the-sky approach despite winter’s jaw snapping.
We sell the furniture out from under ourselves.
In the midst of it all, your heart never stops beating.