The story behind this poem, and really the whole emotional current of this book You Had Me At Topography at large, is that I was in love with a guy from my graduate program, another writer, who at the time liked to pretend that we were just friends. We spent 2 years together there (pretty much immediately beginning our romance when our graduate program began) and then moved to Buenos Aires together. I was 23 when I met Brandon. I was 26 when it ended. He was my first love, and no amount of him pretending that we were only friends could have convinced me that he didn't love me. Not even when he said he didn't love me like I loved him did I believe him. His actions were all love, from being my deepest confidant, my critical and honest and kind editor, my lover, my travel partner, my best friend for those years. We finished each other's sentences, we read each other's minds. Still, dealing with a situation where you are madly in love and the other party denies the existence of the relationship is freaking hard.
A lot of my friends asked me why I did it, why I kept on even when he wasn't being the most compliant of companions when it came to traditional stuff. I knew it was worth it to me at the time, that's why. No matter what happened, having that experience and falling so far into love with him was right for me. The difficulties, and brokenness I felt, so much uncertainty, so much crying, it was all part of it, and I will always look back with fondness on those years. Brandon and I are still friends now (though we didn't speak for a couple years, to heal the wounds), and for that I am infinitely happy.
This poem was born from those feelings, that experience. It was written not long after it officially ended, inside of the deep sadness that lingered with me for almost a year.
The book is available on my website, jessicalakritz.com, if you're interested in adding a collection of poetry to your shelf/life. For the holidays, it's 25% off. Yay! Just use the code UHADMEATXMAS at checkout for the discount. If not, feel free to keep enjoying my readings here <3
Chemistry on Hold
Bread in its bag, day-old
baby blue speckled like snow
across a field of wheat
sticking to the tips only
the Great Plains and the great
loneliness
of such a space, vast and flat
this stillness, this morphing from life
to shelf life.
Once, I was without
this conundrum of memory
of our lower halves
hands holding my hips in that flowery dress
drinking barley wine in a hotel room
shades of mauve
and time drifting mauve to
gray, this precision of colors
that precede disaster, the sky
of a few twisters
of a wheat field
and afterward
that rain being cold, dress dripping heavy
onto concrete steps.
And, since the beginning, roots uprooting,
sycamore
young, climbing through shallow dirt. My sky so distant
a blue, the spark a cross-handling of cables, dusk fire sitting like fog
like us in our twenties at nightfall on a terrace
in Buenos Aires. Darkness a shield, you behind it
with another girl singing our favorite songs
like they were only songs.
Children in the narrow streets
squealing like bats, splitting the night into crystals.
We see our reflections
only our former selves instead
only the dog tired and smiling on a cold marble floor.
Now, who is dreaming? Who is lost
with us, dreaming, waiting
to dream or to lose,
one body in the quiet plains,
for how long?
A loose wire dangling from a pole, half disconnected.
The wind, dangerous as fire, dangerous with fire.
Love isn’t a word, I know, but
is this true?
Is this true? What am I saying
I can live with
or without?
Special guest appearance in today's poetry reading: LUNA! She appears in many of the poems in the book, including this one, so it wouldn't have been right for me to tell her to leave. Plus, I love having her by my side, always.
xoxo and thanks for listening.
(Brandon, Luna, and I napping on our Buenos Aires terrace)
(and here is a pic straight from the poem, our lower halves, that flowery dress. That's our Australian roommate sitting in the center of the photo)
