I rock my shoulders
like the ripples of a wave
listlessly, easily,
adverbs, the preening birds
of the English language
so flowery, no scent,
some paper origami.
I listen to La Havas
undulate adjectives and vowels,
oscillate between kind melancholy
and gentle joy; everything soft
this is how things become beautiful,
not because they ever were;
it is from the boxing ring
of air particles fighting their way
against one another
lest they know the battle
realizes the sound.
I thought, she must be better
at parting ways
from old loves, but no,
she is no better than you or me.
All feelings become sound,
layered one over the other
one track, then another
until it is something
we privately
call closure.
like the ripples of a wave
listlessly, easily,
adverbs, the preening birds
of the English language
so flowery, no scent,
some paper origami.
I listen to La Havas
undulate adjectives and vowels,
oscillate between kind melancholy
and gentle joy; everything soft
this is how things become beautiful,
not because they ever were;
it is from the boxing ring
of air particles fighting their way
against one another
lest they know the battle
realizes the sound.
I thought, she must be better
at parting ways
from old loves, but no,
she is no better than you or me.
All feelings become sound,
layered one over the other
one track, then another
until it is something
we privately
call closure.
Julia Gerhardt is a writer living in Chicago. She was nominated for the Best Microfiction Anthology 2020 and Best Small Fictions Anthology 2020. She has previously been published in Comstock Review, Okay Donkey, Rogue Agent, and others. Visit her at juliagerhardtwriter.wordpress.com.