sometimesihatemycat

So I sat and faced you

For awhile I stared

The calm color of eggshell

From this close

You are not flat

But full of barely there bumps

Tiny hills and valleys like pores

Or imperfections

I must move forward

So I stand

My toes flush against your baseboard

My palms placed flat and splayed

They find your cool smooth surface almost soft

But steady unmoving

So I lean in

My thighs press and flatten

My hip bones and ribcage slightly crunch

Less skin and fat to comfort them

My fleshy middle and my harnessed breasts

Attempt assimilation or passage

Until the tip of my nose touches you

And my warm stale breath

Is reflected fully back at me

My eyesight blurs but still

I must go forward

So I turn my head

The side of my neck cooled by you

My springy ear cups against you

And I listen to your insides

A faint hollow sound that echoes

Like waves inside a seashell

My cheekbone and temple

Crunch like my other bony prominences

You are impassable

Unless I use force

Which may break us both

But I will

I scream and pull my fist back

Ready to bear the pain and blood

Of breaking through

To my surprise my limb moves only

A few miserable millimeters

It slams into another you behind me

I turn to find I am surrounded

On all sides now

No room even to sit

So I stand and stare

I face you unmoving

That damn color of eggshell

And yet, I must move forward

So, I stand and face you

— by April Resnick

Inspired by Samuel Beckett

Posted in Body, Humanity, Identity, Loss, Meditation, Poetry, Writing
Tags: Body, meditation, Nothing, poetry, Samuel Beckett