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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