Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash
There are some substances words won’t pierce.
I hope them a sieve to drip through. The world is many different filters.
At least in moving every day my arms grow stronger, legs more shapely,
fingers able to grasp a little longer.
Shapely is good, that's what people like
you taught me. Does comely mean pretty
or ugly? I never looked it up
but I like the way it sounds around me.
It holds like something round & soft
the opposite of homely, or a synonym
which works its way from my mouth differently & the same.
I never wanted to be shapely I wanted to be you.
If I couldn't be you I wanted you
to love me. If you couldn't—
Well, we all hear what we already believe.
Same thing that always happens.
These days I listen to the tones more.
Some days are lovely little blurs
with sun shedding itself through the windowpane
then the curtains then the bottles then the dishes.
Sills are where the whole damn home is.
Anyway, I know
I never said the words
in any order that mattered. I'm trying.
I should probably see a therapist
but who amongst us
can construct the view from halfway down
& vocalize it. Listen
I just like the lilt & gravel of my own voice
& we both know it & it's all performance
even in the moments that should have been
just us. Hey
I was thinking I would visit soon.
I thought I could see you.
So, when you get a chance
give me a call.
It’s Bojack.
Mary Rose Manspeaker was born and raised in West Virginia. They currently live in Brooklyn, where they work for independent publisher Three Rooms Press and are pursuing an MFA with The Writer's Foundry at St. Joseph's College. Their work appears in Hobart, Lammergeier, Juke Joint, and elsewhere, and they tweet @MaryRoseMan.