Shane Neilson | THE WEEPING TENSE

THE WEEPING TENSE

— for the listeners

There’s too little light in this room,
I have something to tell you—

Lean closer, I’ll write more quickly,
I promise, I love you—

don’t cry—

over the kitchen counter
today,
clearing scraps, I started
………………………………………… weeping—

Out the sliding door, I could see the unkempt grass
bullied by a fleeing wind—

and I was sad for the future, I thought of all the things he is,
now.

If emotion is useless,
then each tear is:
not exorcism,
not process,
but how I can’t do anything else;
inflammatory mediators throwing flags into the brine of
the future, the future, the future, the future, the future
is dripping onto the counter,
and in the fading light

we can still taste the salt
and say,
at least—

a love you can choke on, and get, heavy—wearing, grinding
at least—

so close now, your face, ear
and the future

 

Author’s Bio

Shane Neilson is a writer from New Brunswick. He will publish “The Weeping Tense” in You May Not Take the Sad and Angry Consolations, due out from Goose Lane in 2022.