Leveler Poetry Journal
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Declaration

 

We weren’t supposed to

and now, I’m feeling dread

that I’ll tell you something that

memory will squander.

You, I love even during the horrid

comparisons we make

of ourselves to attrition.

I stayed by the East

River on a lounge seat,

sky a drunk man’s metaphor:

the stratus clouds long as jet wash

red-shifting toward me

carrying the city light

vortex above, below, in my pocket

the diseased vibration of apology.

You tried to find me for hours,

looking into bars and readying

glances, everywhere was absence.

We upset cool summer

late-night, reading texts

a life scrolling down,

the curses settling in chest

a harness of limitation.

We have shown

remarkable patience in our

incompatible nature

and no good even faking

at being grateful for each

celebration the other despises.




Jason Ueda