X-Ray Autumn by James Diaz

It is too heavy to carry
it is this bend in the road
this halo no longer glowing
half a heart, and weary
comes the day
you are no longer human
some say
get down on our level
but nothing could be less true
than the mess they see you as
you are not cannon fodder
you are creeper
on dark
walls
vines thirsting for rain
you extend hands to catch sunlight
photosynthesize
heartache
in belly chambers of bone
you know pain isn’t something that you choose
it’s something you live with
a prerequisite for trying to breathe
without knowing how it will end
you’re beautiful
in this slant of light
that curves just beyond what can be touched
and dances up so high
you feel defeated and completed
and what is the word for that
love, in a thousand different tenses
how the throat catches the tiny detail
you can’t finish this sentence
you are just rising in the only ways that you know how.

 

©2018 James Diaz

 

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Bio: James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018). He is founding Editor of the literary arts & music mag Anti-Heroin Chic. His work has appeared most recently in Occulum and Philosophical Idiot. He lives in upstate NY and occasionally tweets @diaz_james.

You can find James’s pages on FaceBook and Twitter.

 

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