force of disquiet (poltergeist)

 -to the teenage girls who get talked over in conversations. you deserve to be heard.


chaos is the natural state.

the sea-glass vase aches to tumble 

from endtable to floor 

and shatter

i only supply

the encouragement

it needs.


the door wants to gunshot slam open

and bury handle first 

into the wall

like a turned around knife

and i only supply

the force

to move.


and the night is so quiet

it starves for the noise

of a bookshelf felled

as its leafy fathers

and the person - 

my person - 

hurrying out in our always routine.


“what is it this time? what did you do?”


the cat is innocent

of course - 

it is only me

and my inside outside breaking.


you try to dispel 

through pretty words 

calm songs

and i alight the tablecloth with your incense

and pretty candles

make the whole room dance light 

until

a glass of water drowns my glee.


i sing my own songs in words i cannot speak

smash the porcelain plates and lightbulbs

stomping foot-painting

crimson on the “good wood floors”

and fuzzy carpet i never liked in the first place.


you try to flee

            -how else? - 

by moving house

from city to suburbs

and quieter streets.


you assumed i was floorbound

my “no”

asserted in cracking patio tiles

skipping pieces into 

your chlorine-soaked pool

and watching each sink

so nicely.


yet you don’t even try to see me

they refuse to see me - 

and i will be heard 

instead


i will tear up all foundations 

i will tear into your shoulders 

and scream 

until my ethereal throat bleeds - 


“when will you see me?

when will i be real

to you?”

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