I Don’t Care to Believe Him

Larisa Koshkina






by Lindsay Flanagan

There’s a taint on the air, like electricity that’s nearly burned
Through the black pavement that my feet are shuffling along
Its black fingers have curled around my throat
Even while one keeps stroking the back of my neck

But I have unraveled it
And buried it like a treasure
In the sand, although I have kept the key

Clutched tightly in my hand

I put my head down, keeping myself removed from passersby
Because he said there is no cure for any of this
And we may be in for the long road, as if we were driving
But I wouldn’t care if we rolled off the shoulder

Because I have blotted him out
Like catching a firefly in my hand
And then closing my fist around it

Its wings are still quivering against my skin

I turn my face away, isolating this feeling from him
Because he said there is something about the two of us
And you may be in for a snow storm that will bury you deep
But I wouldn’t care if we were caught in an avalanche

Because I have crossed him out
Like an unwanted line in his song
tattooing the notes around my wrist anyway

Its words are still trembling in my core

Category: Poetry