PROSE POETRY
KARA KNICKERBOCKER
[I SHOULD HAVE ALWAYS STAYED FLYING. I SHOULD HAVE NEVER STOPPED WRITING]
after Diane Seuss
or started. I am the reason for backspace, said the girl. What can carry us both? asked the plane. I could fold the excuses into air. I should have laid down on the wet grass more times than necessary, heat-drenched. I should have written you out of the book. I should’ve let you cut your mouth on my name. So what if I drown, again. I could have a handful of hallelujahs and no fucks to give. Watch how hurt travels through the years, & what of it? I know now. I should have dated an artist, came second, come at all. I should have charted all the ways to watch the sun leave, then follow it out of the room. So what if it takes the light with it. I should have learned to love the burn, the spiral. I should have cited all the parts that made me feel alive & put it in the notes section. Instructions for further reading. So what if I never marry. I am ash, said the boyfriend, with a ring between his teeth. Let the words scatter gray. & yeah, let ink slow bleed into August, into summers we still taste, into diamond-shaped scars we can all name--
or started. I am the reason for backspace, said the girl. What can carry us both? asked the plane. I could fold the excuses into air. I should have laid down on the wet grass more times than necessary, heat-drenched. I should have written you out of the book. I should’ve let you cut your mouth on my name. So what if I drown, again. I could have a handful of hallelujahs and no fucks to give. Watch how hurt travels through the years, & what of it? I know now. I should have dated an artist, came second, come at all. I should have charted all the ways to watch the sun leave, then follow it out of the room. So what if it takes the light with it. I should have learned to love the burn, the spiral. I should have cited all the parts that made me feel alive & put it in the notes section. Instructions for further reading. So what if I never marry. I am ash, said the boyfriend, with a ring between his teeth. Let the words scatter gray. & yeah, let ink slow bleed into August, into summers we still taste, into diamond-shaped scars we can all name--
Kara Knickerbocker is the author of the chapbooks The Shedding Before the Swell (dancing girl press, 2018) and Next to Everything that is Breakable (Finishing Line Press, 2017). Her poetry and essays have appeared in or are forthcoming from: Poet Lore, HOBART, Levee Magazine, Portland Review, and more. She currently lives in Pennsylvania where she writes with the Madwomen in the Attic at Carlow University. Find her online at www.karaknickerbocker.com and Twitter @karaknick.