Repeating the Same Instant

Kristen Orser
Everything happens
because I'll never marry
or stop desiring

	the ambiguity
of something else

		And maybe there's an essential

fatigue from uncertainty
that keeps me holding dried flowers

	reading the same passage 
at the foot of the stairs

In the same place
where I compulsively said yesyesyes

		and later tried to rhyme

A word I've forgotten,
but sounds like

	October, the rain isn't going anywhere
and it resembles a thought I had once:

	You might not like me the way I like you

Is it too easy
to think 

that something is something else
and begin attributing assumptions

	What is the meaning of all this?

			the poem in your ear

So that tomorrow

	my dear, will you be here tomorrow,

in my ribcage?
	where everything looks like phosphorous

I expunged my romantic tendencies
	but I carry intention with me

so it can be returned to a meadow
			if such a place exists—

Even my bruises take root in the marrow—
	poor marrow, poor, poor marrow.  

		I've only ever wanted to be inhabited

At the very least, to be
able to say something 
	close to what I wanted to say

	though the alphabet has turned 
the color of slack

Come, look 
at the way silence collects

	until we're surprised

To see anther year ending

	Another poem beginning with everything

With everything that happened 
that can't be explained

And, often in the same phrase,
nothing at all is happening

	though I've vowed to draw nearer
to something—