Find Me in the Unfinished Things
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| Nathan Dane Clark |
Find Me in the Unfinished Things
Empty the good whiskey into mismatched cups
and call it a ceremony, not a mistake.
Argue loudly over who gets the blue chair—
it wobbles like my last opinions—
then fix it together with something stubborn and ugly.
Pocket my bad jokes; spend them recklessly.
They age better than I did.
Feed the stray ideas that scratch at your doors.
Some will bite; name them anyway.
Write letters you never send, then send them by accident.
Blame the envelope.
When the world hands you a clean answer, dirty it—
truth should look like it survived a bar fight.
Forgive me in installments, like a bill you keep forgetting on purpose.
Borrow each other’s courage the way siblings borrow jackets—
without asking, never returning the same shape.
Taste everything twice: once for flavor, once for story.
Laugh at the wrong moments.
Especially the right ones.
Keep a small, ridiculous hope in your back pocket—
lint-covered, indestructible.
And when you miss me, don’t go looking—
make something instead and leave it unfinished
so I have somewhere to sit.
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Great imperative title, Chris, and excellent imperatives throughout your poem. I prefer mismatched cups, they give me choices, and I agree about feeding stray ideas.
ReplyDeleteSuch comfort and pleasure to sit a while with you in this poem, like a chair. You made the imperative voice close and intimate, breathing what is cherished with each image building on the other to construct what's lovable and adored in life, in a relationship. A masterpiece, Christopher. Just wow.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding roster of imperatives, well-blended. My hat's off.
ReplyDelete