Jason Roberts

something
a point of grace
a warm reckoning
thinning wide into light
something beyond breath
that feeling like a body singing
isn’t that what we said we wanted
to our weary dark horizoning selves
some final expansion outward-upward
as if the body were made to be escaped
& all we know of this life’s weighted worry
forgotten or at least a dimming memory of how
our hearts died mastering the science of loneliness
or how in some part of our secret sectioned-off selves
we just wished it would hurry up & be the hell over with
because we could not bear how much it hurts to be around
others with their frail bodies & our sick insides & dying lights
& how we become the wanting that wants all the wanting to end
but who could blame us for those small fictions of transcendence
how else to dream in a constant-giving-in-to-the-guesswork-of-things
that is this life circling around the silence that lived in our places before
we were born how else to die but to trade one question mark for another
how else to live but to write this elegy certain of a body certain of its yielding

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