Sara Saab
A House of Reticence
Look, not one of us consented
at the very beginning. This is known.
To pick it up by the noose and accidentally
reel a whole life along?
Pour in the relaxants,
deodorants, anti-emetics, only to glimpse
not death at our elbow unfurling
a bathrobe, but leery life.
Brazen upskirter. Bodies, I hear, are
heavy when the puff of animus
goes out.
We're only built to know how to execute
one day then
another. Look, the big questions are a trick
of form; multiple choice where you can circle
many or none
Come here, climb the chainlink. There's a glow
over the city that we put there.
One of the cultural inheritances of millennials like myself is the growing certainty that we’re the generation who gets to see the world pass from health to terminal illness, and that there’s very little we can do about it. I feel grossly violated by the rules of life in this last asthmatic gasp of the world. This poem aims to capture this familiar-to-my-generation feeling of existential nausea.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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