TAKE CARE OF YOUR FRIENDS. LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE MATTERS. THIS IS JUST AS TRUE IF NOT MORESO WHEN THERE IS NO FUTURE.
HERE IS A ROPE TIE IT AROUND YOU AND I WILL HOLD ONTO THE OTHER END FOREVER I PROMISE.
WE HAVE A KNIFE OF FIRE INSIDE US.
WE ARE A KNIFE OF FIRE FOR OUR FRIENDS.
IT COMES FROM THE COLD.
WE ARE BLESSED BY THE COLD AND THAT IS HOW WE HAVE ALL THESE ROPES COMING OUT OF OUR SKIN.
DIAMONDHARD COLD SMOKE IN THE EYES, LOOK.
OUR MOTHER WAS A FIELD RATION.
OUR FATHER THE BURNT SKEWER.
THE COLD SEEPS THROUGH THE ROPES THAT CONNECT US ALL TO EACH OTHER AND SOMETIMES FERAL CHILDREN CLIMB OR NEST IN THEIR CROSSINGS.
IT’S NOT A PERFECT SYSTEM.
THE CHILDREN ARE COLD. THEY ARE SPROUTING ROPES TOO.
WHEN THE ROPES SPROUT THEY BRUISE FIRST AND THEN THE CHILDREN START GETTING RESTLESS. IT FEELS LIKE IT’S ABOUT TO BURST RIGHT OUT OF YOU BECAUSE IT IS. AND THEN THING IS THE ROPES LAST FOREVER, AND HARDEN SO AFTER WE DIE WE ARE STILL ALL THESE ROPES THAT HELD US TOGETHER WITH THE COLD AND EVEN AFTER ALL THE COCKROACHES DIE AND IRON MOUNTAIN COLLAPSES AND ALL OF THE IMPORTANT HISTORIES TOUCH THE AIR AND DISINTEGRATE AND THE NUCLEAR WASTE UNDERGROUND FINISHES DECOMPOSING AND THERE IS NO MORE RADIATION AND THE PLANTS START GROWING AGAIN AND THE AMOEBAS AND THE GIANT LIZARDS COME BACK THEY WILL STILL BE STEPPING OVER OUR ROPES AND MAYBE FALLING DOWN AND THE NEXT PEOPLE THAT WILL HAPPEN WILL KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THE ROPES WITHOUT KNOWING WHY THEY KNOW BECAUSE THAT IS THE MOST SECRET ROPE IS THE ONE THAT REACHES BETWEEN US AND THE NEXT PEOPLE THAT WILL HAPPEN AFTER WE ALL DIE AND WHEREVER THE ROPES CAME FROM WHICH MIGHT BE THE LAST PEOPLE THAT HAPPENED WHO ARE ALL DEAD NOW. WHO KNOWS.
TODAY THE ROPES TEEM WITH ALGAE AND MOLD AND SMALL INSECTS THAT THE FERAL CHILDREN EAT DEPENDING ON THEIR LOCATION.
LAST NIGHT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF HOME BELONGING IN THE INFINITE PRESENT WHICH IS TRUE INSIDE THE TANGLE OF ROPES TOO.
NOTHING MOVES ALONG THE ROPES. YOU HAVE TO DO IT.
IT’S JUST TO KEEP US IN EACH OTHER’S SIGHT.
I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
IF HOME BELONGS IN THE INFINITE PRESENT THEN WE BELONG TO THE TANGLE OF ROPES AND ESPECIALLY THE ALGAE AND MOLD AND SMALL INSECTS AND CHILDREN THAT GROW ON IT.
NOTHING BELONGS TO US. THAT’S OKAY.
Cynthia Spencer is the author of the chapbooks in what sequence will my parts exit (plumberries press, 2011), MERCY MERCY MERCY (Pity Milk Press, 2013) and I’m Free I’m Alive I’m Alive I’m Living (Shirt Pocket Press, 2015), as well as the collaborative hypertext &c.&c.&c.&c.&c.&c.&c.&c.&c. with Zoe Addison (http://etcetcetcetcetcetcetcetcetc.tumblr.com). She organizes Creatureville, a semi-regular poetry and performance series, and the Olympia Poet’s Theater. She lives in Olympia, WA, where she is finishing her bachelor’s degree at The Evergreen State College.
