(adapted from “My Darling Sara” by Shane Koyczan)
The failing use of my right hand
Isn’t actually the failing use of my right hand
It’s just another way to tell the time
And I’m ticking
So I’ve been picking myself up at bars
With a bottle in each hand
But I never give myself any play
I just make plans with myself for the day after next
By the time the sun swings back ‘round into position
I forget the context of why I asked myself out in the first place
Did I think I was gonna score?
I let a stranger pour me one more
He says
“My name is Joseph”
Doesn’t take much more than that
To start a relationship
My darling, Joseph
Cleans souls for a living
Giving his youth and beauty
To dirt and dust
Understands more than most
That family must be the foot you put forward first
You must weather the worst together
But having never met his family
He places love above all else
Then protests that I use the word “love”
Too freely in poems
And I should really just say what I mean
And I suppose what I mean most is that
I’m trying
He’s been buying me time
On a maxed out credit card
Arms scarred from selling his own blood
To pay down the debt
Tells me he doesn’t mind going broke
So long as I can give him a little sweat
He says
“Try”
So I do my best impression of a pen
And when every problem looks like a page
I commit ink to paper
And the worth of the words that comes out
Determines my wage and I’m making enough
To pay him the compliment of not quitting
Of not sitting when standing is required
He only asks that I put the effort in
And in return he’s willing
To pin a paper heart to his chest
And do his best impression of a target
He says that effort is the siamese twin of success
So when everyone else looks like a wrong answer
He says he’ll settle for being my best guess
So we lie in bed like a mess
That someone’s been meaning to clean
For the large part of a long while
We lie there like a pile of dirty laundry
And how we’ll ever come clean is beyond me
So we don’t
He says
“It’s supposed to be dirty
And if by the end you haven’t hurt me
Then you didn’t try”
So I do my best impression of a surgeon
Going in, cutting purple hearts out of my own
Use my veins like thread
And have them sewn to our skin like medals
Because when the bleeding stops
And the dust settles
All we have are our wounds
To wear like decorations
Upon our chest
Joseph does his best impression of a war
Tells me not to count my pride among casualties
Because maybe faith means never keeping score
He says there’s more to effort than just switching gears
And in terms of what one should give in this life
Sweat holds more value than tears
You have to try
And even though
The failing use of my right hand
Means I’ll never land a knockout punch
In the first round
Life is composed of sound and fury
And whatever noise is left in me
Will be twice as loud when I try
So I plug myself into the idea of going the distance
And I amplify
My darling, Joseph
Has a throat like a vase
That sings his words into bloom
He’s got a voice like perfume
That’s been sticking to my clothes
So everyone knows where I’ve been sleeping
He’s been keeping me so close
You could use my body for evidence
Pull his fingerprints as proof
That he’s been on top so often
He’s starting to look like my roof
But a real sexy roof
And he doesn’t leak
Unless you count the crying
He does that sometimes
Worries that he’s just a back up plan
My darling, Joseph
I’ve lived long enough to learn
Too many choices can destroy a man
I will make no exodus
Be around long enough
To watch uncertainty bid us farewell
Then echo our names into the crater
Caused by the impact
Of when our lack of conviction fell
You’ve never had to sell me on the idea
Of absolute certainty in the trustworthiness of another
The first and only time you met my mother
Mother said
“I like the way he looks at you”
And I echoed back to her
That I liked it too
Eyes like recycle bin blue
Joseph looks at broken things
As if he can make them new
And more than a few times I’ve caught him staring
Caught him wearing
A smile reserved for those busy making plans
Joseph believes that distance is a fundamental
That can be sidestepped by a piece of string
And two tin cans
And I remember when my tin can rang
They said
“There’s no family to speak of
So love is next in line
And there’s not a lot of time
He’s asking for his boyfriend”
In the cab to the hospital I feel my heart bend
As if bracing for impact
So I do my best impression of a man
And face fact
It’s supposed to hurt
A doctor does his best impression of the truth
And spares me attempts to skirt around the issue
They can’t stop the bleeding
And the failing use of Joseph’s heart
Isn’t actually the failing use of Joseph’s heart
It’s just another way to tell the time
My darling, Joseph
I was holding your hand when you died
And even though the failing use of my right hand
Prevented me from feeling you leave
I tried
