How To Be The Web
There was a song you used to sing; but it hums only
for itself now. Disconnect an old habit into drawers
tie it neatly in cord. If dust gets hungry, it can swarm there.
Although your days tumble deep into the new quiet
be up to something anyway. The insomnia can’t stop
the seduction. In fact, smile in code. Never reveal
how deeply you inhale when kissing hands.
It is the best way to respire. Tease finely spun gold out
of those wishbones: herrings, armies, calcium, secrets.
You win. Keep everything. You were always a hoarder; the charm
of your address is the complete lack of commas. But make brevity
a big deal. Acronyms belonged to the news till you came breathing,
so abbreviate. Decide you will be the news. Your story changes
like the current. Stash your heart sea deep. Stay up all night,
sit in mail until someone cares. While you’re at it,
host the perfect place for unicorns to live, down the road from
the concert hall of perverts, procrastinators, and film buffs.
It’s okay if you forget how to spell, as long as you feed all
your pets and look out of windows. Feed the beasts spare secret
lives play a wishbone a day. You win. Refresh if you can
still look into the light and laugh. The insomnia can’t stop
the clock. But if by the fifth stanza you’re news,
by the eighth you’re an epidemic— a sea deep heart
so swollen its map spiders the world electric.
So never stare at hands you’ve kissed wishes from.
Baby, never ask for the time
Liy Yusof, 24.