BUILD A LITTLE SHRINE FOR THE DEAD
I don’t use crystals because they’re magical but because they’re cold and heavy, oh,
I put a jar of honey in the middle
I don’t claim to know what I’m doing
and I don’t believe in
I do believe certain people are there right now
who am I to
expect a logical grief
nobody that’s who
oh, billions and billions of years
is it worse if we invented sadness or if it was
here all along
waiting for the earth to grow a creature
capable of detecting it
you enter the world’s quietest room and realize that you have been singing for years
in a soft, unusual language
you discover mouths all over yourself they want things now
I know you casually hold the belief that it’s
always nighttime in space
it’s always something else
I’m not crying because I’m in pain, I said, I’m crying because the pain is uninteresting.
she took one hand off the steering wheel and found my shoulder in the dark.
the pain will be interesting soon, she said.
Kimmy Walters is from St. Louis, MO and lives in San Diego, CA. Her first two collections of poetry, Uptalk and Killer, are available from Bottlecap Press. She tweets as @arealliveghost.
*these poems were previously published in Killer