some afternoon activity
by
adam l.
two hours before
sunset in the stale air
the hammock sways more than
me. the sand floats
around me in muted consideration
as i walk into
shade. Kitty follows, tail
brushing my ankle, and i can’t decide
to scratch her
back or return
to the hammock for another
nap.
some certain persons
some certain person
came up to me on the streets
when i was just smoking
the cigarette still between my charred lips
burn-
ing burnt by
faded kisses
some certain person said
do you have money
and i did
just run dry of myself
not much to give
so i listened to her story
and this certain person
was more intimate
with me
than the love i share-
d with some certain someone’s
mouth
but you are from me
i am from the faraway nights of
sleeplessness
the evernear days of your
screams that perch on
my sunken heart
and the vision of your knowing
eyes slashed across my brain
i have held you, your
weight, and added some that you cannot
burden
you give me nothing
less than what i’ve given
(i hope to have given a
lot) dearest,
i am from the womb of a
mother i call mother
but for you i know i am
not
BIO
adam l. is currently a freshman at Yale-NUS College, Singapore. he is drawn to the limitation of words, and how even in this limitedness, meaning and emotion can be conveyed effectively. he believes that all poetry is confessional, for all poetry came from within us; and the best ones are vulnerable and raw. at times when words seem utterly insufficient, he turns to physical movement in dance and theatre. if interested in interacting or collaborating, he can be reached at theartistadam@gmail.com.
