Where I Went, October 2012
Once I dreamed there were three men from different histories and they rode horses together into the future. Once I dreamed Donald and Barron were trying to hang out with me at the beach and I said no. Once I dreamed I was crawling through a lake of my own hot blood. Under my house is a mineshaft. A rusty world—quiet, dirty. Sometimes I dream about taking the LIRR to the city. The change in Jamaica is always across a field and sometimes the trains have no walls. I have a recurring dream about a mall where every store has clothing that fits me in it. I dream about taking the escalator to the top of the Saks Fifth Avenue mountain. I dream about a food court parking lot. My therapist two therapists ago. A house with a back staircase. Going again to boarding school, all grown up. Walking reverse into the ocean. Divorcing my husband by accident. A boat. A dock. The moon, too close. Subterranean cafeterias. 14th street. Bodegas. I don’t dream about the psych ward. Not ever. No locked doors or placemat menus. No ping-pong in the hallway. No showers before dawn. No charging my phone at the nurse’s station turned sideways. No linoleum floors or hanging ceilings tiles twisted into caricature. It was too simple, maybe. Too boring a story. Once I spent a month leaving my city while locked inside of it. Once I called it my city. And then I disappeared.
redacted names of people I’ve loved and the current distance between our hearts
[ ] 8 ft [ ] 6 mi + a clock [ ] 15 mi [ ] 154 mi [ ] 313 mi [ ] 326 mi [ ] 532 km + a closed border [ ] 335 mi + the agreement not to mention it [ ] 368 mi / a phone call + something interesting to say [ ] 3278 mi heading east + many things I should have done [ ] 3347 mi heading west + many things I should have done [ ] 472 mi + 10 years + many things I shouldn’t have but did [ ] 1235 miles + a hard block on Facebook [ ] some amount of miles + 20 years + fraying gingham anger [ ] salt + fear + fear + time [ ] a hummingbird’s wingbeat + 2 big cries + 4 little ones + only 15 oz of regret
Catherine Weiss is a poet and artist living in Maine. Their work has been published in Tinderbox, Up the Staircase Quarterly, Counterclock, Noble/Gas Quarterly, and elsewhere. Catherine’s manuscript “unlove” was selected as a finalist for the 2019 Button Poetry Chapbook Contest. More at http://catherineweiss.com.