I love the gaping wound

Jaye Nasir

I love the gaping wound I love the light
refracting shadows painting the hills I love
being rejected denied misunderstood
I love the droning beep of the fire alarm
when it is out of batteries shudder of the wind
through the brush like an animal slinking
along I love the red beneath the wings
of the flicker I love the blue night and bed
sores crying until my head hurts I love
everything that has been forgotten all lost
histories all repressed memories I love
the drain clogged with hair I love the scam
call the automated voicemail I love my
grandmother’s shaking hands the wasted
day I love sun blindness I love dark and
unclean rooms I love laundry day I love
the creature that haunts the house I love
remembering the smell of spring I love
failing I love dropping things I love stress
dreams and sleeping through three alarms
I love underperforming I love burning
at both ends I love women wielding swords
I love women wielding traumas like swords
I love being chosen last I love bloodstained
underwear dirt under fingernails I love
black mold seeping through the walls the
whisper of the river against the rocks
the ad on the billboard covered in graffiti
I love the broken window the outdated
system I love the invasive yellow waxy
flowers that push their faces toward the sun
in early March I love unrequited longing
the unanswered plea the shattered thing I
love the funeral dirge the child’s grave
the horrible celebrity I love the disappearing
winter I love the sound of snakes moving
through tall grass I love the garbage piled
at the roadside the blackberry vine creeping
over the loops of barbed wire on top of
the fence that guards the empty lot for lease
I love begging for mercy I love small gods
no one worships anymore I love the beds of
nuclear waste seeping into the earth I love
the agony of the church I love the horror
of the news cycle I love the turning and
turning of forever I love the gaping wound

Jaye Nasir is a writer from Portland, OR whose work blurs, or outright ignores, the line between the real and the unreal. Her poems, essays and fiction have appeared in many small publications, both local and international, including Moss: A Journal of the Pacific Northwest, Santa Clara Review, and Antithesis Journal.