You thought
you thought you had reached out
you thought you had reached out on your own
made your own path to walk,
you thought you knew exactly
what was coming next. You thought
you were just a few adjustments away
in fulfilling your desires.
You thought you had trampled across
some new path
that should be preserved
like gravel at a celebrity's driveway.
In this you are particular
to how you handle things,
all of the food you consume
and the lost keys
were an aberration of otherwise
days of perfection.
You don't see shapes
anymore in the flower beds you pass
in leisure. Your sweater hangs
in the closet, that unfinished muffin
from yesterday afternoon,
the cat shit in your own garden
easily fetched with bare hands.
These simple things.
So many witnesses. As if to say
we understand, take the walk that
you feel inclined to tread.
Don't worry, we will be here
when you get back.
All of the new shapes
were gathered by us;
small footballs imbibed
with just the right amount
of water, new colors
climbing to the surface—
days indistinguishable.
nobody can catch me
if i go real fast
he'd tell me
planting foot ahead of foot
changing strides
pushing out into
the sides of curbs
rolling alongside cars
wheels grinding over scarified
pavement.
do we have an understanding?
to go fast is to escape
the worrisome
those bad happenings
that catch loafing adolescents
if not too careful.
years later
in an eight by eight
all of his own
can he still escape
the same things that
seemed to be after him
in that fast childhood
that ran itself
into adulthood
all too soon.
Okay, so let's say
you reached your destination.
And you decided to have
a little snack
to celebrate good health
and had tales to tell.
And let's say
you had a solid meal,
a nice chat with
fabulous silverware
spread in front of you
like a fish
waiting to be gutted.
And if someone
were to interrupt
where you were,
as if your speech was ghostly
and you couldn't even drag
anyone in with a theatrical
scream for the ages, moving
cautiously ahead, measuring
your weight in each movement.
And if the only thing
audible to you is
your own scream
reflected back
as if to stand in an open
yet vacant gymnasium—
would you hear the meaning
and the pain of your scream
in your own stillness
formally placed upon you
and question its origin?
Joseph Veronneau runs Scintillating Publications, publishing chapbooks and the literary zine AGUA. His own work has been widely published throughout the small press, including Chiron Review, Poet Lore, Counterexample Poetics, Ditch, Lost And Found Times, Offerta Speciale, Chantarelle's Notebook (featured poet) and many others. His most recent chapbooks are More Than Promised (Pudding House Press) and Within The Grand Scheme (Propaganda Press).