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Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?

Richard Siken

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Richard Siken
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: February 15
Poet
New York City
New York
Stare
Staring
Forgive
Forgiving
Horrible
Simply

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I'm bleeding, I'm not just making conversation.
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You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.
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Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
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Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.
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Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands, these shins, these soapy flanks
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You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not           harmless. You are not                     breathing.
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Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.
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He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.
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We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much.
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The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell. Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time.
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If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.
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The light is no mystery, the mystery is that there is something to keep the light from passing through.
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The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.
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You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.
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I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you've taken something out of me and I have to search my body for scars.
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When you have nothing to say, set something on fire.
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I wouldn’t kill your pony. I’d like to believe it, anyway. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t drag you out in to the woods and leave you there, either. So far, it hasn’t come up.
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Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?
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Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
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We laugh & it pits the world against us.
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