I roll into day. Twenty-something
waiting to leap into the gasps of age,
to hurl myself like a chaffinch off
a high branch. I do not stop to think
this through. The bed is left tossed.
I navigate bare walls and my eyes are closed.
Of course, the day is in full force,
the madding light now flings itself
at the walls, clings to every frail shadow.
I hear sound. The wind spreads its arms
wide and streaks through the trees
like a child through a wheat field.
Everything shivers. The neighbour’s cat
paws at the one unshuttered window
and I shoo it away. The street is alive
with the sputter of engines. People leave.
Children move at the speed of limbs.
Catching the bus, each other.
Their shrill cries keep time
sure as morning roosters.
Not even the comfort of an overcast sky.
I choose to sit in the living room
on any sofa. Read any poem.
I make any motion, take any breath.
I want to live with the faith of birds
alighting on electric wire.
Sometimes, a thought, like:
I wish I could skirt the event
horizon of a black hole
and stick my tongue in.
Copyright © Ali Kisat. Originally published in EVENT Magazine (Issue 47.2, Fall 2018).
Ali Kisat is an emerging writer from Edmonton, AB. His work appears in The Malahat Review, CV2 and Rattle, among others. His chapbook Anthropocene was short-listed in the Third Frog Hollow Chapbook Contest and published in 2018.
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