laugh mate

laugh mate: a backwards Love Story
by emily becker
He was
only to waves
holding, only, oars or
our poles of inaccessibility
the years ate his days
to continue alive took
eight pills and a cane.
his pole. of accessibility.
She was
seamstress stress
of knotted threads
two hands – tied –
hand overhand stitch overlock
overlooking quilted skies
then the years ate her Days.
tired eyes
retired hands
so her dreamweaving happened
only in the lines on her face
They met where recovery is a room
and a shot…a shot of blood
to bloodshot eyes: cause
low quality tears, a chronic pain
their first connection: two waves
and next
: whatcha here for
hear for? to listen
to a smile,
then, two smiles,
(as her butterfly stitch came back)
it’s a biopsy, they tell me,
it’s all natural bio-
Logically speaking
(as his sea legs returned)
when I’m drowsy,
I need some time to forget
Knead some time
a Laugh
Laugh too
Their two stories merged
in laughter, laughing (while shaving,
laughing (while loosing hair
in patches, laughing (while
bleeding from,
everywhere laughing

0 thoughts on “laugh mate

  1. I don’t dare deconstruct “laugh mate”. The imagery and use of language here are knitted together in a fashion that captured my attention (and imagination) from start to finish. Thank you for writing this, Emily Becker. Reading more and more from you would be a pleasure.

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