HOME OF THE BRAVE
15

No Memorial

by Nate Pritts

Number up the times any one person
being a single person / & also a vast wired amalgam
+++++of self linked to all previous iterations,
both wrecked & triumphant / how many
++++++++++++the variations of identity
sprawled out to infinite surrender ++++++++in forgiveness asked for
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++from grief
& myriad mistakes & hollow emptiness of the vacant

 

& this number is heavy grave / inclusive of a record of regret

 

immutable & intractable +++++++but also this same body
of person is known to spring joyous
+++++in celebration when surrounded
by friends / & again glances that best formation
++++++++++++++++& reaches out
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++please
++++++++++++++++++please
please remind me about that day
+++++++++++when you mentioned the light
& how it made me look like it did.
It gave me such hope / was the only
best possible solution.
+++++++++++++++++++++++For minutes
I’ve tried to read as much as I possibly
could in an effort to submerge this.

 

+++++++It’s 3 pm & severe in the dignity of rain.

More minds at work +++++++& more
participation is needed for the organization
to sing / ever make sense.  +++++++++Many more forces
+++++++& several more possible solutions
are needed for the sun to break through
& shine all the time +++++++against

 

this destroyer of grey cloud
+++++++++++drilling into my chest
with equal measures of American fear +++++& love
++++++++++++& impossible dreams
of how entitled we are to something beyond
simple words to recite the being of it / pinning me
to myself & my expectations of sky
++++++++++& all this air +++++++++++++++++this space
the light no one remembers / very well / since it is something
lost +++++to each of us +++++++++++++++++a little more
in each of the hours we live
+++++with heads bowed down
/ internal acquiescence to huge anxiety / resident &
+++++ever increasing / in the moments when even
writing this down assuages nothing but the dying
+++++++of each moment that rolls from me
fully realized against a field of unwritten smiles
& I can’t breathe deep enough to clear my head.

 

I will not ever need to answer to anyone
+++++about why something isn’t where it should be in my heart.

 

I will not hold in this rage which is existent if checked
++++++++++++++& is still so if unchecked.
+++Today, we are all moving on with our lives.

Nate Pritts is the author of five books of poetry, most recently Sweet Nothing which Publishers Weekly describes as “both baroque and irreverent, banal and romantic, his poems […] arrive at a place of vulnerability and sincerity.” His poetry & prose have been widely published, both online & in print, at places like Southern Review, Columbia, Forklift, Ohio, Gulf Coast, Boston Review & Rain Taxi where he frequently contributes reviews. He is the founder & principal editor of H_NGM_N, an online journal & small press.