I’ll cry about this earth in heaven, too.
– Marina Tsvetaeva
i love feelings.
can’t get enough of creatures who feel
& show it, who shimmer
a bit from it. i’m a fan
of my own beaucoup states of sensitive moi.
j’adore, am a whore for when feelings balloon
& kazoo & we’re having
a party on the moon, but where are the bathrooms?
it’s hard to pee on the moon. it’s not hard to see
there’s a gamut of galactic feelings
felt on this planet—trillions
& trilling, while i especially love that wild species
of weepy: half sob, half snort, half snotbubbly
gigglysads. i am partial to sad,
that’s also kinda hot. at parties i ask everyone
if they believe in the afterlife. then leave at midnight
without one goodbye. i love midnight. loathe noon.
though i revere irreverence at any hour. really
i should ask if everyone believes in life.
do i? don’t i?
i hate when i love not feeling even how much i hate not feeling
& all i can do is wait.
wait to remember how my preferred category of party is a picnic
or with just one good friend
in russian novel form. anna karenina,
if you can take an afternoon off from the afterlife, let’s picnic.
spread our blanket beneath this flawless
flamboyance of tree, its classically
cooling feel. enjoy
our cucumber-watercress tea sandwiches,
their A+ soul feel. & then, why not, let’s get
weepy & paint watercolors about it.
each painting will be titled “weep ode”
plus a number. & “weep ode #99”
will depict the last of 12th grade math, our little party, my big day,
the way i led my trivia team
to victory. mid-june in a stuffy classroom—i remember
smelling not too great. i remember
the question was: what is the mare serenitatis?
see, anna, i remembered a factoid
from a gay coming-of-age novel that i kept hoping would get steamier
but just kept getting sadder
which ultimately, i loved.
i loved & love the melancholy factoid i learned from that book:
that one of the moon’s dark, waterless plains
is called the sea of serenity.
& i was so happy to know this, so unserenely jubilant to win with this
i almost wept,
but held myself back
because what if they laughed, pointed & laughed,
everyone, their mouths,
every one wide & cold & far as the lunar mare—
anna, do you see? the watercolor shows
what could’ve been: letting myself weep
& laugh. i could’ve been: good
laughweeping, grand snot bubble,
not afraid. if only i wasn’t
right to be.
Read more from Issue No. 30 or share on Facebook and Twitter.