Chatter

Chatter:

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archiving the stigmatized

outsider art

having been carved into floors with fingernails

is celebrated in a small town museum

half-way across the world

three years after the artist escaped captivity

only to float around inside themselves

doctors mumbling hesitant about

immutable dissociation

maybe it’s too late for praise or pride

they don’t feel it

the way you would

but i watch their hand still bloody

approach timid a river

and wonder if the river can reach them

if they rejoice in it’s soothing

flow like a child electric new

if they will strip off phantom shackles

and swim for a while

if they will want to stay in the middle of the river

for the rest of their lives

an art enthusiast made of desert heat and dust

grin pulls them aside to chatter things

someone the artist used to be

would have loved to hear a year ago

when love was a water they were sure could be felt

on their skin even with no rivulets in sight.

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Market Gossip of a Spinster:

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they think v is mute

the folks who see vrm at the market

picking up odds and ends

the middle-aged witch who lives in the far corner 

 of the forest by the river

in the dome on the hill

the one with the goats

and the odd symbols

but v sings freely for crickets and birds

humans have just shown no such interest in vr voice

there was a time for sharing

and an urge to be understood

when love was fought for

tooth and nail

dramatic proclamations 

by liquor breath and sandy red skin 

but that was nervous exhaustion

 more easily recovered from in youth

v would not reject love if it happened by

if it heard vr songs from around the hill and followed them home 

if it pet the goats sweetly and sang for the crickets and birds

offered a hand with no concept of opposing roles

no needed and needy 

 injured pride or competition

 and accepted a hand with gratitude

 expressed with eagerness

 a graceful ease

confident individuality

uninhibited compassion and respect

a quiet love

not mute

but like headphones over the racket

or a nap in the trees

not so still to be uninspiring

to cause the critter songs to cease

not so fiery to send the flocks away 

and leave nothing but soot and third degree burns

they think vr life lacks balance

because v seeks it honestly

and holds out for the real thing

rather than a different brand of chaos.

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Submitted October 02, 2018 at 07:23AM by eof_emoxnam https://ift.tt/2IwTOvm