Escape

A Poem

today i had a near-garden-state-death-experience
i slowly tripped backward over my open dishwasher 
full of fresh, clean, hot dishes
steam rose around me 
as i bent time with my mind
a slow free fall of which three times
i thought i’d recover
these damn floors
our first chicago apartment
the whole thing leans
doors swinging open 
without consent
as if a ghost
was barging in
i thought all of this
as i fell
one moment
spreading peanut butter
with thoughts of raspberry jam
the next 
ass hard on crooked floors
all limbs 
and sharp corners 
instantly 
i hurt 
everywhere
“that’ll be a bruise”
i say to no one at all
or to myself
because as i fell
the only thing that flashed in my mind
was somehow
i might escape
death

Birthday (1915) - Chagall

i absolutely love Chagall. the first time i ever heard his name was in song by The Weepies called “painting by chagall”. The weepies are my favorite band, they have carried me through so many seasons of my life. I always thought this painting was romantic, she’s being swept off of her feet and into a lovers embrace. today i look at it and i see a domestic space, crooked floors and a woman not floating, falling, and dangerously close to the kiss of death.

it’s interesting how the same pair of eyes can see, and be impacted by, art in so many different ways, at different times, and all interpretations are completely valid. this is why i love art. it’s a language of it’s own and to work toward fluency is to truly experience life.