promise: I lost the meaning of the word
while begging & begging
for it to be solid
my teeth reach into hope to sink
biting into air that glares back at me
the flow of the wind gets disrupted by its speed
pulling off tree branches like dead skin cells
reddening eyes with debris
you ask me to trust you
you ask me to wait
how long?
how long?
I don’t have faith in words as currency anymore
the structure of your ask
the foundation of your desire
holding out
doesn’t keep me sturdy
I blink realizing I am always asleep
always dreaming
looking over at ghosts trying to sing the right song
how they forget how to have a voice
a clear one
a right one
the one I need now
my family wants to celebrate Christmas this year
but without a tree
and without presents
no church
zero Jesus
they just want to eat Chinese food
on a motel balcony at midnight
pointing out & misnaming star constellations
telling one another: look!
do you see it?
do you see the promiseland?
Samantha Albala is a Boulder-based poet, gobbling up horizons and babbling about road trips, tea and anatomical hearts. See more writing at samanthaalbala.contently.com
