Negative Face Scrapbook Space
smells like falling
my dish-doing reflection
block the drain
So crop crop, snip snip
without her and him and the rest of them staring back at me
The memories of our interactions are raw holes in
negative face scrapbook space
Hypothalamus cutting off blood flow,
clogged with cans of
white Monster, strawberry shortcake crunch bars, heart shaped homemade pizza, Martinelli’s
Everything but the kitchen sink...
Even the Star of David makes me think of a lost lover,
and I’ve been Jewish my whole life
Can’t erase associations—
forget crying in the car so hard I needed to pull over
without losing that skinny dip sunset glow,
algae dripping down my calves
Who would I be without these shadows
crawling through my chest cavity?
Twisted into forms I might recognize
let them close enough to chastise
forsake of the good times
If I close my eyes and hold my breath
I can finally hear myself ask—
What would it be like,
a day without nostalgia?
Maybe how the lightbulbs I picked look just right,
and the sky changes every night
Or like people I’m not afraid to love and lose
Losing happens when it needs to.
Art by Alex Kasel