Useless // by Jennifer Patino
There’s a lot I know I’ll never have the heart to say. That phrase doesn’t make much sense to me. “I don’t have the heart…” It’s always said before something terrible. If one indeed had a heart, wouldn’t they feel no need to commit such deeds,
that would warrant a hard heart, a lack there of,
some terrible need?
There’s a lot I let lie there, be it as it may. I let some things rot. Reek of decay. Eventually dust, bones, a stain. There’s a lot you can cover up if you finish before it rains. The Earth sees all secrets.
Will you search blindly, through every pile of fresh
new dirt, with an edge that finally doesn’t hurt?
There’s a lot that can grow from the infertile. Anger. Loss of what you never had in the first place. Silly little girl, there’s stones inside your sacred space. Wipe the hope from your face. It’s in–
–the way we go about this is pretend we don’t want it
in the first place,–
my way. A quiet day. A lot can die in a short time with
No legacies. No grace.
No little socks with lace.
There’s a lot I know I won’t let my own mouth say. It makes perfect sense to me. “I have some bad parts…” I know I have a heart because it struggles against feeling useless. Useless longings. Useless woman. It’s useless to repeat the things that shred me. I’m already torn apart.