by Rebecca Farivar

When a thing may
or may not be
real, you sense
it as a half-
presence, a source,
a back-story
you’ve hidden, thrown
into the trough
between two waves.
Now monsters crawl
to you, stalk you,
leave the bogs and
meres for you. A
whole line died to
kill you, but you’re
here still. And yet
you can’t break a-
way. You are full
of dark matter.
That comes from your
fathers, mothers,
your brothers, your
unnamed sister.
Think about what
haunts you, think of
the waves, the meres,
the monster-strewn
shores of somewhere
else, and then ask
again what haunts.

from here.

1 comment:

  1. In reading this there's what I see, what this says to me, and I wonder what it says to you.
    I'm confident that they are two different things, but I'm comforted by the fact that regardless we've both read the same words. A basic connection, but a connection all the same.