Orion Allen

ORION ALLEN

Thought I’d Write You

though it requires
a great ladder, or some other
makeshift bridge to be thrust
across our gaping

vacancy of mutual
disbelief. What I am

to you I can hardly realize so I
release it to the room, let it
do its work while I sit

and listen. When I reach
out my hand my hand’s
always at the other end, that soft
aeviternal pink, posing

unclenched. To do all
for true selflessness
might also mean an amputation. All—

lined branches, packs of light, packets
of mist (though I’d like snow,
a white field
to walk into, tracks of some animal leading
to the railroad) nowhere’s

tracks, ferocious stone, hopping birds with uncertain
motives—may be unknowable.

In due time, you said, bringing light
to here but not to what it is
or isn’t. When is due, or done?
Your hair a whole new bed

to burrow in. Cheek to eye,
eye to neck, our problem, always, a mysterious

inability to stand your
time, my hand, too many
assumptions on our minds, the order
of things implicit, placed

in a row according
to what? Kindness? Now

it’s been years since I’ve seen your hair
in afternoon light. Since then I’ve grown

mountainous. Days get shorter then
longer again, a drive
like any other, hunger, envy

or need for luck. A sum packed so tightly
together. The world our minds. I think

this is right: there is no being good

for me

Blank

but if you're not here
who will be when it

out of uniform curls
around itself & what

kind of blank
would you see instead?

--

I go to the grocery
store, buy an enormous
pink Tupperware
feeling afraid, densely
enough to footnote

[in any other place it is—is
it?—quite possible]

--

to be yourself ready made
or to wake laughing

again, mutual objects

like landfill

like they are headed

--

I have seen many
hundreds, maybe

thousands of headed

who say "sweetheart"
like my father

biding their time

for some conscious
presentation

[maybe just ten]

--

nothing is
dense enough

to articulate

not well

Orion Allen is a poet living in NYC. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, their work appears or is forthcoming in Ninth Letter, DIAGRAM, Rejected Lit, Small Orange, and elsewhere. You can read more of their work at orionallen.com.