one of the first things
you said to me
as unexplained
as the last
I said yuck. Something about a variety of frames.
Something about the way you were standing on
that stool while I knelt below. The mouldings were
all gold and you looked at me with that fierce and
present stare.
Something about the way you asked me to repeat
the phrase. Something about the way you turned
away from me in consideration, only to ask if I’d
ever read STILL LIFE OF A WOODPECKER.
(I’m eager to listen. So eager.)
But when I ask, when I say – no – why?
you say – just a – just a book. You say it with a
stammer. Something about the way your voice
trails off. The pause in the sentence.
something about unmasking. something about a girl named Leigh-Cheri.
something about the moon. something about HIDING AND SEEKING.
I google the book and come up with this excerpt that
resonates, though I don’t know if it did for you, in that
moment.
And I may never.
some folks hide and some folks seek, and seeking
when it’s mindless, neurotic, desperate, or
pusillanimous can be a form of hiding. But there are
folks who want to know and aren’t afraid to look
and won’t turn tail should they find it — and if they
never do, they’ll have a good time anyway because
nothing. neither the terrible truth nor the absence of
it, is going to cheat them out of one honest breath of
earth’s sweet grass.
I guess I feel like I’m hiding around you. I don’t feel like I
need to come out (of hiding). And when you don’t explain
your reference I sense something akin to hiding in you too.
There’s closeness without
Intention.
Mae is a queer human, two-time art school graduate, and avid reader currently residing in the Pacific Northwest. Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Aries, Virgo Rising.