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65 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 15, 2012
My sister told me a soul mate is not the person
who makes you the happiest, but the one who
makes you feel the most. Who conducts your heart
to bang the loudest. Who can drag you giggling
with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
It has always been you. You are the first
person I was afraid to sleep next to,
not because of the fear you would leave
in the night but because I didn't want to wake up
gracelessly. In the morning, I crawled over
your lumbering chest to wash my face and pinch
my cheeks and lay myself out like a still-life
beside you. Your new girlfriend is pretty
like the cover of a cookbook. I have said her name
into the empty belly of my apartment. Forgive me.
When I feel myself falling out of love
with you, I turn the record of your laughter
over, reposition the needle.
I have imagined our children. Forgive me. I made up
the best parts of you. Forgive me. When you told me
to look for you on my wedding day, to pause
on the altar for the sound of your voice
before sinking myself into the pond of another
love, forgive me. I mistook it for a promise.
("love, forgive me")
Don't worry. Baseball practice has been out
for hours. In this town, children aren't allowed
out after dark and it is dusk. Walk to the center
of the diamond. Peel off the husk of your dress.
Sit down. Let first and third base guide your legs
away from each other, as simply as opening a pair
of scissors. The dugouts will drop their wooden jaws.
The dirt will roll over and blush beneath you. Spread the lips
of grass until you are buried, buried. You are the center
of the earth. You are what spins the record. You are
conducting this wild chain-link orchestra of heart. Touch
yourself. Do not think of anyone else.
("the field")