SYNCHRONOUS
They call us synchronous
Definition: existing or occurring at the same time
Pixelated classmates exist intangibly—
present yet muted.
Some wear emptiness
square barriers, dark pits
Hiding faces never to be known
No coffee or drinks or oh my god cute shoes
No sorry, I have a boyfriend.
Women’s Lit professor would scoff,
“Sick male gaze nostalgia”
but she is built of thousands of multicolored dots
like the rest of them. Does she carry the same weight
as flesh and blood? I want to
turn to the girl beside me and ask
if I have lipstick on my teeth. I want her
to offer me a ride in her car and
see if she leaves trash on the passenger floor. I want
her to give me her number. Not to text,
but to treasure. A trophy, archived in contacts.
Proof of contact. Evidence of being noticed.
Nobody notices a two-inch square
Nobody hears a muted voice
Synchronized swimming, synchronized dance
Synchronous isolation.
HOPE HINDERING
Neurons aching, not sure why
news and hate
trauma stinging like bile.
Or the hope
that punches and kicks and tears at your skin and your throat until you can barely
Breathe
heart flutters, adrenaline takes flight
and a vulture dives toward your gut
pain as it feasts and breath comes again
the backs of your eyes throb
watery anticipation, drowning thoughts
quiet
but numbness is coated, scratching, evil
alive and until you learn to grow up
you don’t know how to make it stop.
Apple in your throat aches
Dying, rotting
so you won’t be able to find your way
out of this all-consuming hole.
No words, just nothing.
Imprisoned in limbo,
moments fleet in sepia
fading too soon to be noticed.
YOU
No loneliness greater
a neglected mother and her perfect child.
Chest aching, chubby fingers and toes kissed,
Jealousy stings the soles
The palms of the hand ache for maternal surrender.
Immature soul, hungry for guidance
fed with responsibility
Growth in the womb banishes insignificance
And suddenly, in one push, push,
push
You are the whole world.
Ungrounded emotions taut with expectation
Hyper aware of the liability of life—
Who is the first cardinal of pain,
if not the progenitor herself?
Power to build love or destroy
and empty that nobody cared to do the same for you.
Tiny buoyant laughter, salt on desolate wound
Love now eternal,
and the chance to revise outcome—
Strangling, grasping at sanguine.
One un-kissed foot in front of the other
Tortured, enduring, devoted
To future
Peaceful, serene.
