Get Over Myself (d1)

Note: this is a first draft of a poem about time and self. I’ve always enjoyed looking at completed poems and wondering how they got there (“One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop is a good example of the efficacy of drafts), so I thought I’d make the process transparent for something I’m working on. I also want to include a piece of art with each draft, with this version’s accompaniment being “Woman Descending Staircase” by Gerhard Richter. While I like the little experiments in each stanza, they aren’t yet connected in a meaningful way.

 

Get Over Myself

Pipes jut in the sad remnants of our once-was basement

and I find myself by the goodwill sofa, whispering to

myself that I never properly got the bookshelf stocked.

 

Indiscernible invisibility, specks of ourselves play

in a song that never finished once we were done with it.

Rain pickled on the porch, the porch processed

the scene as we trampled up the stairs, eyes stared

at the exposed brick of next door’s brownstone.

 

You kissed me like a retronym in the bedroom, right

by the rotary phone and my stack of floppies

with wimpy ideas. Tasked with pushing the light

across the room, I sat and traced the shadow lines

until they came around again.

 

Far above, I thought (still think) that I failed

too many times, not for abundance of failure but

for lack of trying. I made it about me, and

there you (were) lost.

 

The great thing about time

is that it goes on.

 

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