Shear Strength (Soil)

Sometimes we learn to name hurt first
because we are tired of pretending
that everything is ok.

This doesn’t mean that joy is a stranger,
that the opposite of sorrow is bliss,
that the opposite of the opposite
of the intermediary
is sitting upright and making sense.

I don’t have enough flesh to bury
all of the memories
and contradictions
of my childhood.

I don’t have enough time to
watch all of the salty seeds
dispersed from a constant howl
germinate.

I want to build a shelter frame
with my mother’s bones
and the skin of my teeth.

Skeleton scaffoldings are not futile
but they can be bars
if we’re not careful.

I keep forgetting
that the earth itself moves
shatters
liquefies.

Feelings are oscillations
and preconditions,
a constant propagation of
confrontations,
rivers of silt and soil.

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