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Literature Text
Thinking I would suffocate from heat, or dehydrate
into a shriveled leaf, I wanted to crawl under a rock
like those little animals in the dessert, content
to watch the world turn when I felt you slip.
When the rain came I was content to drown, allow
the mud to rise above my shoulders, blocking
sound to sleep so I could cross over too, rolling
through light like milkweed until we were home.
Yet, just as heat is abated by rain, thus is rain
by heat, always in time to push the clock forward
another minute. How easily my hands could navigate
my own fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things.
But,
I keep thinking of Romeo, had he only waited a few
more moments before swallowing his own flesh. Is this
how Shakespeare felt while penning his grief, too much
of a coward to surrender to his own death?
into a shriveled leaf, I wanted to crawl under a rock
like those little animals in the dessert, content
to watch the world turn when I felt you slip.
When the rain came I was content to drown, allow
the mud to rise above my shoulders, blocking
sound to sleep so I could cross over too, rolling
through light like milkweed until we were home.
Yet, just as heat is abated by rain, thus is rain
by heat, always in time to push the clock forward
another minute. How easily my hands could navigate
my own fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things.
But,
I keep thinking of Romeo, had he only waited a few
more moments before swallowing his own flesh. Is this
how Shakespeare felt while penning his grief, too much
of a coward to surrender to his own death?
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How easily my hands could navigate
my own fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things.
my own fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things.