the valley below

i fall to fragments in the pulling of your chain
my ageing eye-bones ugly by the sea

as always drags for stunner-fish from me
speaks death my fathers pockets into poverty

futility behind me fire-dives like stars
for childrens sea-bed faces i will never see

the grieving know by undertowing force
necessity your surface that i choose to be

by breaths am i permitted in this dream
your daily judgment sheer futurity

my watch the world unmade as history
your swallowing my coin remainderless

your lie in the veil between me like a mist
your move and i miss you infinitely

//

eta - note: i came across this and wanted to clarify, in case my poem may have been part of what prompted it.

this piece was written as an attempt to work through feelings of futility, distance, and a failure of vision and expression. it was not intended as a “heroic” or “no problem” poem, or as support for war, genocide, or the justification of violence.

it is fairly common for me to discover unintended interpretations in my poems after posting. sometimes that is part of what i value about writing this way. but i also recognize that it can lead to readings i did not anticipate, especially when the subject matter brushes up against real suffering.

to be clear: i do not support genocide or war. i do not blame or hold animosity toward victims of violence. i have made personal choices in my life to distance myself from institutions and systems that do support those things.

im sorry for any harm or distress this poem may have caused. that was not my intention.

-e