Longlist Saturdays: On My Own by Brandon Shane

Photo Credit: Robert L. Hunt

On My Own

I only planned to kill myself, and the weavers

only planned to build one big nest on an acacia.

But wind only feels like flight when you are dry,

and love only feels like love when you deserve it.

Sometimes lies are best approached with absence,

not to argue with rot, build a house on woodworms,

but to leave it all behind, the dissection, the morgue,

the bloated body of you, the ash you become to them.

I only planned to kill myself, and I plan for mornings

saying her name, his name, feral families that could

drill down basins, white afternoons their rage rhymes:

I bring planks knives hammers nails my neck responds

in staccato I planned only to kill myself but here are

all of our possibilities laid on the dirt: I only planned to

decompose and leave behind poetry and one pair of well

sewn shoes how I have received everything I wanted

and that is the second time I planned to kill myself the

first time was when I asked for it.

Brandon Shane is a poet and horticulturist, born in Yokosuka, Japan. You can see his work in Rattle, trampset, Variant Lit, The Chiron Review, Stone Circle Review, IceFloe Press, The Marrow Poetry, One Art Poetry, among others. He graduated from Cal State Long Beach with a degree in English. Find him on Twitter @HalfTheLobster