Melanie P. Falina – I Know Nothing
So many words
about the powder
that becomes a liquid
and goes into a needle
then goes into a vein
– not from me –
– not my words –
– I know nothing –
but words
words withheld by one
words shared only in poems by another
echoed against a tombstone into a breeze
reverberated
and a dank world offers the occasional surprise
but they both sheltered me
superfluously really
for there was no allure
but I adored them each
for their diligence
and it’s not that I
wasn’t broken
as they
not that I didn’t yearn
for kindred succor
and maybe
that’s what troubled them about me
but I know nothing
save for the bottom of a wine glass
and all the desertion
placed in a pile
next to the bottle
I throw it back
over my shoulders in the morning
when I wash my glass
with soap and scalding water
and I remember nothing
I know nothing