How to Comb Through the Wreckage
her memory for survivors. Somewhere deep
below the debris, a little girl is
learning to tie
her shoelaces using the bunny ear method;
her shoelaces using the bunny ear method;
a man is washing a paisley tie with
dish soap
in the kitchen sink, a weeping willow tree,
his hairy knuckles wringing out disappointment
and how the wind grieves like an infant.
in the kitchen sink, a weeping willow tree,
his hairy knuckles wringing out disappointment
and how the wind grieves like an infant.
This is one way you'll remember, her
doctor says
tapping on a photo album her husband brought along.
tapping on a photo album her husband brought along.
She'll be charged for an hour, but
will receive
only a quarter of the doctor's time. He uses words
only a quarter of the doctor's time. He uses words
she doesn't understand while her
husband flips
through the pages of their lives with great ease.
through the pages of their lives with great ease.
How do we all go on, each second,
each minute,
each hour, each day, anticipating the next disaster?
each hour, each day, anticipating the next disaster?
Then the mechanics, like whether or
not we ever really
know when the time has come for us to stop searching?
know when the time has come for us to stop searching?
Destiny
Isn’t Just a Seven Letter Word
My plane crashed
several years ago,
you’re just stepping
from the fiery rubble
of your own fatality.
several years ago,
you’re just stepping
from the fiery rubble
of your own fatality.
We pick through
the wreckage
like characters from LOST
hoping to find the remains
of who we once were.
The smoke is laced
with jet fuel, so thick
we often cover our faces
to the thickness
of its implied tragedy.
with jet fuel, so thick
we often cover our faces
to the thickness
of its implied tragedy.
Our hands meet
at the same time
on a half-charred remnant,
our skin full of electricity
and untethered hope.
at the same time
on a half-charred remnant,
our skin full of electricity
and untethered hope.
-aleathia drehmer
