elegies for a small town
poems
1
call me dramatic / I think I’ll die if I stay here / by which I mean, I’ve burnt every bridge with a sharp tongue / by which I mean, I stopped tolerating small people / by which I mean, my therapist says that boundaries are uncomfortable for everyone but necessary for all / by which I mean, I am not crazy / by which I mean, my home is my sanctuary / by which I mean, get the fuck out / by which I mean, your breath stinks of cheap booze / by which I mean, it’s pathetic to get drunk at 2pm / by which I mean, it’s pathetic to get drunk every day / by which I mean, I stop drinking so I will never become them
2
another body. this place collects them like butterflies, dried and pinned to the fabric of small-town anguish. people are born to die young here, drowning in generational trauma. I hear the stories, attend the memorials. my heart aches. how do you process grief when loss doesn’t stop?
3
no one talks to anyone / they talk behind backs, behind bars / hurl accusations / apologies never come / from conspiratorial tongues / my therapist says that intent means nothing, impact means everything / when he calls me a thief / he calls me your girlfriend / over and over / your girlfriend / your girlfriend / they all do / as if I am nothing but an appendage that begs / removing / I resent you for this, sometimes / I want to be the villain / I want to tear flesh from limb with my words alone / I want to bare my teeth, pomegranate juice dripping bloodlike from feral lips / I want to watch it all burn and rise / from the ashes
4
happiness doesn’t live here: I have searched for it in the trees atop glacial mountains, at the bottom of bottles. don’t you understand – this happiness only comes with a sugared rim. don’t you understand – I am living the wrong life. I want to write of home. instead I write elegies for a place I cannot love.
5
passive-aggression as a sign I'm doing something right / by which I mean, I feel so lonely / it doesn’t count as crying if salt tears run with shower droplets / I wish I could feel at home; I am adrift / I lash out to steady myself and instead find you / my therapist says that for every negative thing, you need five positives to balance it / so I leave water for you beside the bed each morning / an offering to offset harsh words / it is not your fault I am rootless
About the Creator
Katherine J. Zumpano
poet & writer in the pnw | bookworm
writing a little of everything
find me on instagram & threads: @kjzwrites
'from me, to you' out now.
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Comments (6)
I agree. This is what small towns look like. That's why I disagree with the lack of growth and backward views. Great poem!
That feeling of being held somewhere and resenting it. Stay or go? That line about leaving water by the bed as a positive thing hit me.
This was quite relatable! Parts of it! I enjoyed reading this! Congratulations on your Top Story!
This is amazing ✨
It’s hard to grow and change and stay in the same place. Thanks for capturing that uneasy tension so smoothly.
Katherine, it's been a while since I'm read poetry that pushes and pulls you in and out of different situations and perspectives. I liked this poem!