SCORCHED EARTH

Carine Gilson SS2015 ‘Alba’

Ishiuchi Miyako: 'Hiroshima' (2007)

sometimes these phantom limbs need a distraction. me and all my blood. we take to the to the town. any town. anywhere. looking for arms as warm as yours. always coming home empty handed. the last black hair adrift in a shower drain clogged with brunette. it haunts me into this careless game of roulette. where i pick up a book of poems & like an amanuensis, hold this pistol with our children’s names in the chamber. the common denominator here is that it’s someone who isn’t me that gets the last word. kurt travis said “it’s all your fault that everything is beautiful.” he was right. i would never have wanted any honey without the bees. andrea gibosn said “i wish i was that face you show strangers when they ask you where you come from” you used to save every picture I ever sent to you. like you might one day wake up having forgotten who i was. sam sax said “that other man has a name, i hate that.” there i go again, my mouth full of someone else’s words hoping it makes a difference. but that’s just it. it’s funny, the way roulette works. it has scaling results. the more often you pull the trigger, the more certain you can be of the outcome. mark strand said “you ruined it. you ruined it forever.” some nights i can’t tell. some nights i want to fill the grand canyon with cement. rasheed copeland said “it hit me so hard it made ears ring. and i answered it, thinking it was you..” i am afraid of answering phones these days. of voices that aren’t yours telling me it’s okay. even if it is. i lose track of time you know? it’s hard making up my own endings. this tug of war between dreaming of you as a clock with your arms always at 3:45 and me being awake when the sun looks like it blew it’s brains out. jericho brown said “if he ever tastes mud as bitter as my poetry, then i win. and you love me.” hallelujah.