a friend says it’s all under the surface, that I never bring those riptide forces up. I won’t let my mercurial moods off the leash, gain a hold on me. this life is like passing your hand through a candle: it can hurt you. these days I do things that are against my better judgement, and I judge myself for this. You
are solid rock, grounded and sure. I wonder if you sense my envy, rich as emerald. I know you like to have everything tied up in a bow, but this is all tornado: spiraling out of control. no navigating this storm gracefully— but I promise I’m doing all I can even if it doesn’t look like it. slowly, we navigate our shared space. I fear I am not just to you, but you say to not worry. I’m not— look, talking about this is a real drag. I’d rather let things simmer than bring this into the bright of day. I’m not letting it out.
Gretchen Rockwell is a queer poet whose work has appeared in AGNI, Cotton Xenomorph, Palette Poetry, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. Xe has two chapbooks. Gretchen enjoys writing about gender, science, space, and unusual connections. Find xer on Twitter at @daft_rockwell or at gretchenrockwell.com.