whole - t. reverie

poem read by Timothy Arliss OBrien

whole
t. reverie

the sidewalk would have been cracked and sunny,

we would have been children with too many smiles and too few teeth. 

i think the light would have caught your eyes, and i'd have called you pretty,

we'd have held hands crossing the street. 

you met me empty-handed and vacant, a house with a rattling door, 

dust fingerprinted in the windows, the car broken down in the lot.

where were you when i was a home, with a fire in the hearth

and food warm in the oven? where were you when i was whole,

or closer to it, cupped hands holding water, feathers holding up?

the bells have rung us out of the house, our palms are over our ears,

oh, where were you when we were children? i hate to think back on before you,

that there was ever before you at all. 

i'd have shared my crayons with you, i'd have drawn you into the picture, 

stick figures outside of my house, the sun goldenrod yellow in the corner. 

but we're back here, and the glass is cracking, the floors are falling through,

the food is long since burnt, and there is no one left with the appetite to eat it, 

even if it weren't.

the birds are dead in the lawn, 

they've been trying to come inside too long,

their wings have forgotten how to fly.

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t. reverie is a californian poet and writer who focuses on topics including romance, grief, and mental health.

some of his work can be found at accidentalmagazine.com.