Sept 2024 — The Big Fear

9/4/24 — 9/14/24

When the big fear comes between us, I want you to grab the sun with your bare hands, remember what it’s like to be love-sober, before the neighborhood cat was found sprawled on the sidewalk. I wish he would have asked if it scared me or if it hurt me, because all I knew was that it was bad. All I knew was this feeling did not want to be felt, that it had taken time, cradle to grave, to run from me, that I will never be rid of its pot-stuck rice no matter how hard I scrub it. I’m sure it will never be as clear to me as the directions I’ve written you, and by that I mean, can you please guide my wandering eyes through this blizzard? I don’t wish to beg. I spoke to the moon and her crater-painted face, and you would have loved what she told me. I can’t remember it now. Something about a palm-stricken face knocking tears into their senses, forgetting you brutally in the birth of autumn, seasons made for soup and crystal balls, and reminded me the hunger never stops, no matter how many cycles you’ve run that machine. I think you would have loved to hear her words. Just don’t let it come between us.

— ODH