Poetry

From Lyrical Puzzles

The Center (Matt Maday)

I forgive you.

I took to the woods because the house was too loud.

I forgive myself.

the streambed absent water my shoes looked unreal they were filled with air, shoes attached to socks, socks attached to pants, no feet, all my clothes attached to no body, my head bobbing above the void, the sun melting a variety of weird temperatures
frost bit through with its blue flame in the summer.

I forget you.

I took to the woods to forgive myself. And there it was. A makeshift shelter, faded wood in the
swollen arms of a sycamore

panels jutted from the boughs, human and obscene.
surrounding me, cradling: our bed.

out here,
no one’s bed.

Counseling Center, you hypnotized me, set me up and left me with a compromised
midbrain, my eyes were fixed in place. Prepared for the psychotic break

this is where I really grew up. I wish I could share it with you but I can’t because

I forget you.

I can only stare at the flecks of light cut in the black felt board, can’t ever look at the night sky
and sink in because after a while I have no reference point

I’m set apart from

those throughout history,

killed without a warrant, persecuted without reason
and left to dry on Dandelion Row