Zoom

Zoom

For five minutes

I was talking

to your ceiling.

There was

nowhere else

to look.

You said:

anywhere else

but here.

I don’t know

how to do it

how to

break down

my breath

and take

the next one

how to dig

beyond the

bottom

how to

say the next

thing and

the next

All I

know

is this

moment,

listening

to this

talk of

heaven

not seeing

your face.

Just stay

on the

line

please.

Image: Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

April 8, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 no. 8

Message

  
by Justine C. Tajonera


Telling you this
is so important.
The bridge is so 
tentative,
tenuous,
it is hardly
there. 
What you will 
say 
will shake it
to its
foundation.
But I'm crossing
over to you,
anyway. 


I'm crossing over,
I'm crossing over.
Please meet me
there.
Please wait. 


Information on the picture: Old wooden bridge.
  © Copyright Hefin Richards and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Opening Line

By Justine C. Tajonera

It's just a simple conversation:
let's get together,
you and I,
let's talk all afternoon,
all evening,
if we can.

Then why is it so hard
to get this simple
message through
to you?

There's a dance around
this thing we are
doing,
something called
convention,
expectation.

I don't know.

There should be you
and me.
But in between

there are castles,
walls, screens,
stories, lies,
assumptions, rumors,
lakes, therapy,
thesis statements,
phobias and
pictures of
us

that are scrubbed
clean from my
facebook wall
but surfacing randomly

in my dreams:
mug shots flying by
as I do something ordinary
like open a door.

I want to open a door.
That's all I want
to do.

(Dec. 23, 2009)

For S.
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/starrynight1/2250956869/