today, something will happen.

today, something will happen.
by meghan tennison
i want to perform
a good deed
i want to acknowledge
“good morning!”
the presence of others,
drag the angels back to earth.
these are tough times
staring into our reflections
greasy tea kettles and muddy car windows
seeing through our own eyes, skipping straight to:
“how naked the trees!”
“how white the snow!”
ignoring the glitter, not pausing to wonder
“who is behind my camera?”
genuinely listen to others by
robbing their shoes and
exaggerating their souls and
crying about how
correct and different and alone you are.
play the game of “appearance matters”
compliment the makeup-less:
their stressed-out hair, their limp, their frozen bones.
disable the fast forward button
walk to the beat of the second hand
each step flickering by
mother each moment and gulp it away
pushing their final leaps from the hill of sensations
dropping them into the abyss of
my sweaty machine’s bouncehousing
daydreaming hungover factory workers.
knocking at the tank of your heart, i hear your hinges
still thinking, still blinking, collecting
points for an oily fantasy diet.
side effect: your body wakes up
moaning about disrespect and
lack of interaction with other bodies
so you dive into the gutter and
fish out a beauty-breaking melody
who echos each word you’ve ever
flushed from memory.
the fridge is playing its lengthy, one-chord lullaby,
my pupils swim in-between your
three-degree pores, but
up close you’re still too far away,
a blurry chaos of space.
my words ache like
wounded soldiers still marching forward
sleeping as piles in a moldy closet.
i dream about your face while looking at you.
in theory you make my heart explode and be reborn like a
kidnapped star;
in reality i’m
still asleep.

0 thoughts on “today, something will happen.

  1. you hit a serious spot for me. i felt each line.
    “i dream about your face while looking at you.
    in theory you make my heart explode and be reborn…”
    well done meghan tennison.

  2. brief indiscriminate collection of possible reflections.
    shiny chemical food sludge.
    back of spoon, when squeezing my teabag against its belly.
    closing your eyes quickly in certain lighting and seeing your friend float around in cosmics on the eyelids.
    clear nailpolish.
    putting away the dishes and seeing my face splattered all cookiecutter on the silver pot&pan lids.
    vanity-born selfawareness; my imagination’s eye.
    catching my eyeball and her surrounding pores staring at themselves in the glasses.
    hugo just repositioned himself so is ear is draped on my forehead but i’ve got front row feeling of his mini dog swallows and gulps.

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