my girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. tell me where did you sleep last night? in the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine. i would shiver the whole night through.
sometimes i think – i need to disappear into the woods.
hollow out a space for my bones, curled up into a tangle of fur and paws and tears.
even the beasts cry, sometimes.
especially when they don’t want to.
i am not foolish enough to believe that anyone can be what you need them to be.
i remember his mother telling me that, a few heartbreaks ago, from the driver’s seat of her car on the island.
she said it in passing but it predicted the end – of that. of – so many things.
this sad zodiac.. my stars shattered into a bowl, mortar and pestle, feed me my wishes again so i can stay.. alive.
it all comes out in the grinding.
in the working of the words, of the bones, of the promises.
where is the line from acceptance to acceptance? what makes it surrender? what makes it holding your breath?
i am not a guru sitting in the woods, eyes closed, hands folded. sweet smile.
i am the beast in the burrow.
i don’t believe you.
acceptance is not surrender in the usual sense. funny, these guises of words.
all guises. all words held on posts against faces. we promise. and promise. and close our eyes again.
but it’s not important enough, is it? is it.
you have lived this long enough and i am not understanding.
i think i know enough to say – i don’t want to..
maybe i should keep it. myself.
let you remember how the lone howl fits in your throat.
leave you with the cup. the lighter and matchsticks.
i don’t believe you.
..
even the beasts cry, sometimes.
waiting for another dream.
XO
a.
audrey di mola - folkloric futurism 