Tell Me
Kim Addonizio
I am going to stop thinking about my losses now
and listen to yours. I’m so sick of dragging them
with me wherever I go, like children up too late
who should be curled in their own beds
under the only blanket that warms them.
I am going to send them home while I stay
at this party all night with the loud music pumping
and the dancers moving gracelessly under the lights
and the drinkers spilling their scotches on their sleeves.
I am going to join them. I’m going to drink until
I’m so wasted I forget I have children, I’ll dance
until I ache, until I make a spectacle of myself.
So tell me. Tell me how you hurt
even though I can’t help you. Tell me
their ages, how they keep you up nights,
how sometimes you wish they were dead
but keep finding yourself gazing at them
tenderly while they sleep. Then, please, dance with me,
hold me while we fool ourselves
they aren’t out there, pressing their damp
hollow faces to the windows. Tell me
that if we kiss a new one won’t start to slip
from each of us, tell me you can’t already feel
the little hole burning in your side
or to hear the others moving over to make room,
shrieking and clapping with joy.
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p2: defenestrate
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