Danny Tells Me My Favorite Words
Annalise Hagen

And all I see are fault lines and elongation, verbal

bandages to staunch my dread, it instead

preferring a trajectory up, up, up, my mind

in pursuit, sore-heeled and winded. Silly as a summit

ashamed of her naked tip. Sometimes I make a self-

deprecating joke and secure no laughter, though the offering

felt ripe, freshly picked, purportedly. But beauty isn’t an orchard

more often just a worn-out wilderness on the way down, in which

I pitch my tent and let my coffee percolate while time lingers

behind by a mile. Whatever goodness I carry I try to make fit

in my pack amongst the rations, nourishing— just add hunger

and water.

Maybe loving myself is learning to yearn

for someone I know too well.

Awesomesauce.

I tend to giggle while delivering

viscerally overdue feelings —

an aftershock or a symptom? Difficult to ascertain.

Even earthquakes and illness can falter.