the protest of continuing
a painful void—
can’t tell if it’s the missing tooth
or the others
waiting their turn
the body learning absence
in real time
healing
from subtraction
✦
there is the one that’s gone—
clean absence
a precise subtraction
a socket
still warm with memory
✦
and then—
the others
not gone
not safe
just waiting
like names
on a quiet list
✦
the body doesn’t know
which pain to honor
the missing
or the scheduled
it holds both
a ghost
and a forecast
at the same time
✦
the now-hole
versus the next inevitables—
the body
caught between
absence
and anticipation
✦
one space
already surrendered
edges soft,
still learning
how to be nothing
✦
the others—
tagged
by knowing
not yet gone
but no longer innocent
✦
tongue returns
to the vacancy
checks
again
again
as if something
might still be there
✦
what was stings
and what will be aches
the body
caught mid-translation
✦
a crack—
not loud
but final
three weighted bends
and then
nothing
pressure dissolving
like it had somewhere else to be
✦
“that came out easy”—
too easy
like it wanted out
before I agreed
✦
the sting—
already fading
a bright, brief signal
that something
has been done
✦
the ache—
not here yet
just gathering
low
patient
inevitable
✦
sting says: it happened
ache says:
it’s still happening
✦
the water stone
against my left jawline—
cool argument
pressed to a warm refusal
✦
I hold it there
like a translator
hoping
this
and the pain
can find
a shared language
✦
ice says: slow down
pain says: remember
✦
the stone melts
time passing
through my hand
through my face
✦
and still—
tumultuous, raging seas
the body
turned ocean
currents crossing
without permission
✦
each pulse
another wave
each throb
a crest
lifting
then dropping
✦
the jaw—
a coastline
taking impact
again
again
✦
the weather system
of an entire world—
pressure mapped
across unseen terrain
heat rising
from places I can’t name
✦
ice against skin
like trying
to cool
a planet
✦
forecast:
lingering
indefinite
✦
and somewhere—
a question
is what will be
inevitable
where did it go wrong
and why
does sound
not see
✦
it arrives
without edges
fills the room
but never
names the shape
✦
so I sit
inside signal
inside pressure
inside a body
that knows
before it understands
✦
ever been
on the losing end
of a never ending battle—
not defeated
just
outlasted
✦
no clean loss
no clear win
just accumulation
✦
and still—
I don’t wanna go
just yet
✦
a few more necks
to hug
hands
to hold
and storms
to survive
✦
not finished
with the warmth
not finished
with the weight
of another life
leaning back
✦
so I stay
mouth sore
jaw aching
system in motion
✦
this is not victory
this is not surrender
✦
this is
the protest
of continuing
✦
a low, constant yes
spoken
through absence
through anticipation
through sting
through ache
✦
through the whole
weather system
of a living world
that has not
finished
with me
✦
and I have not
finished
with it
No marks yet.