Melissa Broder

When I Hear the Word Serenity I Think Doped

I am told to sit and wait for it
in the liturgy of moths
like there is even a choice
like if I called it would eclipse
my sad sack of dark words
no it would not
no it would not
every time I called it came
but not like a thunderhead
not the lasers I expected
always peoplewords
or some piece of person ripped sideways
sideways spirit
below as above
and no one is watching
but please believe it cares
I must believe it cares and cares
as hurt dots the sod
let my tongue unravel
to lick a milky cord
even as I waste my minutes
let me cream the cord
right to my heart
with syllable and spit
though it will never be what I want
and I am going to have to resemble me
as I came into this desert
broken up
and full of bones
like the universe is too big
to be seen all at once
like the whale was already written
like ok there is a light
but I cannot feel the nod
I will not get to feel the nod
and if I feel the nod
it isn’t it

Melissa Broder is the author of two collections of poems, most recently MEAT HEART (Publishing Genius). Poems appear or are forthcoming in Guernica, Fence, The Missouri Review, Redivider, et al.