New Knowledge

A broken bone

Is also new knowledge.

A bone is there that

Was not there before.

This knowledge is felt,

But it is not enjoyed.

I have stopped missing you.

Your stupid sadness, the

Nightmare that you wake up

Into each day. I understand

It. I know what it means

To shut your eyes and

Fall into quicksand,

Unable to breathe,

But also unable to die.

It is creative and it always

Feels new: the ways in which

We can collide into each

Other, or ourselves, and

Learn about our bodies.

I watched you yesterday,

No longer proud

Of yourself. A grown man

Crying at a birthday

Party. Simple pleas that

Used to work, forcing hugs

In the kitchen. I’ve stopped

Feeling you, and am

Looking at

My guts contained by

Skin, barely.

It will hurt until it doesn’t

Anymore, like the wildfires

In the West. The trees will

Burn. The bugs will die.

The terror will be quiet,

Folded, something that happens

At night. I will wake up

In the morning unsure

Of myself, no longer

Brilliant, because I’m

No longer blind.