old pocket-sized notebook
Sun Apr 01, 2007 Filed in: Poetry
I found an old
pocket-sized notebook
from my New York years.
I was not scared to
read the intimate thoughts.
first, a diatribe
of self-hatred
and desperate lyrics.
then, your name,
written in your cursive,
and how I could contact you.
the rest of the pages
were blank.
I carried the notebook
with me to a play this evening.
I wrote in it what
an Iraqi woman told me from the stage,
"the war is inside you."
I saw the smoke of the towers
from my backyard in Brooklyn.
I remember drinking screwdrivers
and feeling guilty.
the Iraqi woman meant
the war I haven't seen:
the one with smart bombs.
my smart bombs.
I wrote what she said,
"I love like I cannot breathe."
I will leave
the rest of the pages blank.
pocket-sized notebook
from my New York years.
I was not scared to
read the intimate thoughts.
first, a diatribe
of self-hatred
and desperate lyrics.
then, your name,
written in your cursive,
and how I could contact you.
the rest of the pages
were blank.
I carried the notebook
with me to a play this evening.
I wrote in it what
an Iraqi woman told me from the stage,
"the war is inside you."
I saw the smoke of the towers
from my backyard in Brooklyn.
I remember drinking screwdrivers
and feeling guilty.
the Iraqi woman meant
the war I haven't seen:
the one with smart bombs.
my smart bombs.
I wrote what she said,
"I love like I cannot breathe."
I will leave
the rest of the pages blank.
|