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August 3, 2015 Poetry


Natalie Sargent

balance photo



the sky is gray and you will not stop talking
about balance
this focus has become your baby
for at least the past three days
last week it was tarot cards 
and a techno song
that made the world feel like a machine
a slow
hollow machine that i could lie beside
waiting for sleep
in the night
i hear the soft undulation
of your heavy breath
the sound of a cat
batting a small piece of garbage
across the hardwood
the soft roar and light thud
of a sliding glass door upstairs
this time last september
you were unceremoniously fired
i picked you up
we ate breakfast and drove around
a box with the contents of your desk
wedged into my trunk
your hair is longer now
growth is a theme in general
for you
your sense of self
flux as anti-virus software
constantly adapting
simultaneous disconnection
and attachment
floating on purpose
whimsical update installation
your dirty yoga mat
your vitamins
my emotional void
my laptop charger
cords wrapped up around themselves
a strange methodic tangle
you asked me how i slept
and i lied
no better or worse than usual-
you thought it
i know you did
i am ready for this phase to be over
you might be a buddha
but i am not
i am bored with the concept
of mindfulness
always feels overwrought
and just out of reach to me
as i watch you frolic
in it's perpetual light




image: Tara Wray