What do I have that you need?
What do you have that I need?
Even though we are running in circles
the walls are hard, my face is bruised,
vessels bleed. Numbers are hard
and they don’t bend, like memory.
I am certain you are certain
and that hurts, like memory.
I am tired, and I cannot remember
what you have that I need.
If it’s history, it fits in my pocket.
If it’s water, I already drank it.
What is that noise? I object
to that noise, not history
(though I don’t need history;
both of my pockets are torn).
Do you think dessert was overkill?
I’m stuffed. I’ve had enough.
Heather Taylor Johnson
The Cake is Done. I’m Finished.
4 May 2016