Week 2. Prompt 3. Project 3.

Ropes Courses (by Rebecca Chasteen)

You’re doing a great job
at making me regret every honest word,
every genuine gesture I keep offering
it’s all becoming…nothing

I grasped you and hope in the same hand
and probably not the hope you’d guess

let’s just burn these pages
the words hurt me hanging,
never granted a place to rest
as they gather uncomfortably around you
while you act like you don’t know they do

I’ll chalk it up to my imagination –
all that connection, electricity, relief
things I must have conjured up just for me
we can pass one another in the halls again
(the longest hall I know from either end)

I have read your silence as indifference

you grant me allowances
I misinterpret and overspend

it turns out
it was always that afternoon
leaning against that car
signals crossed
I just wanted
and you did too,
I just didn’t want the same thing as you

I am trying to let this go
and unweave these ropes I tied and wove
while you keep on and on

you were never here so you can’t be gone
I should have known that all along.

It just wasn’t ever right
if it was even real
I can’t make that call
when I’m feeling what I feel.

It wasn’t timing; it never was
in facing that, I face the rub.

I’m creative, I created
an intricate story and little safe places.
I waited
and there’s so much still to tell.
I’ll tell it to myself. (That act is unremarkably familiar)

I’m just trying to let go of this rope
I strung through you
and I bet you’ll barely feel a thing (if you even do)
and you’ll move your wings more swiftly
from these little plains I built up like they mean

and what you said about angry-
you have no idea the places I’ve been,
but then
you and I are
you and I

we never turned purple or green
or any combination of things
(though my vision so skewed, made murals from me and you)

we barely…

I took every…

it never…

and that’s really all that’s left
I guess


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Filed under Poem Prompts, Project 3, Week 2

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