I’m Building a House
for my nothings I’m building a home
for my wasn’ts my weren’ts I’m walking
the plank of born to bored I’m studding
a shelter in which I can live in the body as
embarrassment grief-racked & shuttered I’m
filling the fireplace with each wish I can’t burn
I’m holding each never in my mouth each little
loss I wish to give a shape I can mourn a weight
& a name what is the body except for a tragedy
we try to convince ourselves of all’s well that ends
well water makes a surface in a pail reflecting sky
as the emptiness to which I address all
my prayers for an end to emptiness as if
this is a solution a fence as strong as math
I’m deading each rose by the head I’m
slaughtering darlings I’m looking for zero
like a lighter at the bottom of a barred night
I try for talon & instead invent beak I make
of each missed luck a note to scrawl
against the sky tell the morning I’m fine
go on without me even now empty & eager
I know I have all the nothing I need
Also by Emma Bolden
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