LITANY OF I MISS YOU’S
i miss you the way polaris parkway mall has a grand piano at the base of the escalator in the pink carpet pink wall department store. when it was empty, papi would play the three keys to the pink panther theme song. i miss you the way i knew how to do it perfectly, once upon a time, i miss you the way i miss pressing my tongue to teeth until a faint impression makes a jangle out soft chord percussion. i miss you the way i miss all the fireflies once they spray pesticide. one night i woke up to a dark so vast not even the moon could touch me. i miss you the way i miss the mall. arm in arm and ankle aching. for the last year, i’ve only eaten unripe fruit. i miss you the way i miss summertime wildberries. i miss the soft bite of peach. the sunlight on the peel of mango. i kiss my last box of strawberries into the yard and hope they come back to me wanting. i do miss wanting. i miss holding my breath. i miss turning my lungs inside out. i miss myself into frown lines. i miss you into ribbed over xylophone. when i unbox the house, i leave all last impressions of you up. is this a selfish poem? this is a selfish poet. i miss the long line. i miss the decanter of crystal and tropical storm. i miss you and all the pastel houses on the shore. with hurricane season coming, i miss clear skies. i miss the impression of wood. i shred into tissue-vein paper. i paper-mache a mirror. i miss the reflection. i miss taking the outerbelt home. i miss the abyss of forest. i miss the time before i knew the outerbelt was called the outerbelt. i miss keeping my eyes closed. i miss enjoying my voice. i miss pulling into the space next to the space by lettuce lake park. i miss looking. i do miss looking. i’m sure it had a name, once. i miss remembering our names vividly. i miss us into an oblivion. i miss you into a new language. we break/shift into a new mode of conversation. i miss you like i miss the landline. i do miss the landline. i always loved everyone at the end. briefly, i reconstruct my whole life.
iram of the pillars
ENTER:
LIMINAL SPACE: we all become
other. sudden. everything i do,
we did. before. clay tap these pillars
up there
on that slant.
ENTER:
SINKHOLE:
I WOKE UP IN
AGONIZING ANHELO.
I SAW,
THE TWO OF US
A FAR OFF PLACE
A HOST
LIMINAL SPACE: of every desire,
the most tangible
that i whisper, then dissolve
y además,
lo coloqué en encounter
chance & entangled
sweating y lo
prometo
SINKHOLE:
YOU’LL FIND ME HERE AGAIN.
CAVERN CRACK MY JAW
REMOVE MY RIGHT HIP
IN THE CURVES OF COCCYX A CITY IS
HOME,
A DNA PRINT
A DUST DANCE
OH, WE WERE HERE ONCE,
ONCE,
ONCE,
LIMINAL SPACE:
HERE IS THE TRUTH — THE STORY LONG SUBMERGED +
UNDISCOVERED — NO — ERASED — WE REVELED
IN SOFT UNDERBELLY — CITY SUNK LIKE AN ANCHOR THROUGH
DIM LIT SUN — FINGERS ENGULFED DEEP IN FLESH
FLOOD — SMELLING OF SWEAT + SOAP —
UNDER EONS OF SAND I UNCOVER A WATER
BREATHING — LIFE — UNHOLY — I COWER — BURY
THE GLASS SHARDS — WHEN THE WORLD FLIPS
SOMEONE TURNS MY REFLECTION INTO JEWELRY —
SOFTENED — ENMESHED — IN LOVE — PALATABLE
SCORCHED DAYS GONE, GONE, GONE! UNIFORM, FINALLY!
FINALLY! FINALLY! FINALLY!
sara h. hammami (she/her) is fragmented between language(s) & is always thinking & dreaming of life underwater. she has poems living with DEAR Poetry Journal and Grist.
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