From Fingernail Clippings to Funerals

I wish I could write poems about things that didn’t matter

You know how you feel like you can only write
In
These
Staccato
Lines
And everything will be meaningful?

Write a poem about a sunset
About the feeling you get when he touches you
Not just on your hand but inside your soul somehow
He grabs at the bloody flesh of the thing and tears something dark out
That’s what we want to read.
Write about fishing with your father as a little girl
Before distance and politics pushed you too far apart to
Remember what the safety of his hugs felt like anymore.

Write about the first time you heard someone sing live opera
And you realized people really do have voices that heartbreaking
And the beauty of the surprise made you feel funny, like you wanted to cry
Write about a man who preached words of purity to you
When you were fourteen and desperate for your first kiss
And five years later cheated on his wife and babies
Write about the time your grandfather died and
Your sister called you at a friend’s house to let you know
In such a brusque, insensitive, brutal way
And you don’t think you can ever really forgive her for that
Write about these DEEP. AND BIG. AND IMPORTANT. things.

What if I just want to write about how beautiful this song is
How when I pause my iTunes I can hear voices
The sound of two lovers fighting
Which seems like such a silly, contrary thing
But then again, I have never really had a lover
So how would I know?

Write about how
I wouldn’t mind a lover
If I was going to tell you the truth
I would love a lover.
I would be good to a lover.
I can’t help but think I’d like to have that someday. 

Shit.
It got deep
And all I meant to type about was
Awkward skype fights
And fingernail clippings falling on the floor
One
By
One.