Question for Question
A Petrichor Poem
We play this game
you and I.
You ask me a question.
I ask you.
Currency exchange
of morsels.
Lists of demands
and neediest of needs.
Shaped by the ones
who broke us
we can outcurious
any pain
suffering
woe
still
we’re afraid.
Smile.
Look away.
So confident in you.
Mostly confident in me.
Fingers dredge in locks
that one spot
atop your head
won’t settle.
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We’re so careful.
With ourselves.
So many tests
questions
hurdles
to make sure we might be
the one.
Or else.
What if it’s you?
Is it me?
Have I done enough work?
Read enough books?
Done enough therapy?
Dated enough?
Are my mistakes the
right teachers?
I’m afraid.
I’ll let you into my world.
Into me.
Laid bare you’ll stare
and walk away.
I ask questions
to insure
my almost fragile heart.
Late night roulette
we spin
and toil
and twirl
and hope
and ask
and tell
only to be almost sated.
I watch your eyes.
Am I being honest?
Do you like what you hear?
Are you being honest?
So many questions.
When will I know it’s safe?
It’s never safe.
The risk is everything.
I’m so good at being trite.
I’m so good at being vague.
You’re so good and knifing through bullshit.
You’re so polished.
And confident.
And wise.
A knave am I to be swooning
at the knee of grace.
In this night I ponder
the myriad ways to woo you
with inquisition
only to stumble through
the same questions.
I’m gaining my footing.
Just in time.
To fall.
