Favorite Things

Posted byJennifer NealPosted inpoetryTags:, , , , , , ,

I have favorite things,
moments, & feelings.
If forced to choose,
I’d list them in raspberry jam
on a piece of sourdough toast.

I’d breathe them out
in ice fractals, in the crisp
fog of my mouth
just before the snowfall.
Swirl them in majestic flakes.

I’d sing them like early 2000s
emo lyrics, in 90s grunge style,
in a mad girl aria, or in my native
tongue. I’d pound them into a drum.
I’d make them a ballad, a pop punk
playlist, a scratched mixed CD
slid under a tall boy’s front door.

I would love to write them, to film them
experimentally, to dub them over
with exaggerated voices, to paint them,
collage them with teen magazine clippings. I would squeeze them, cuddle
them, hold tight to them while I sleep.

I would eat them like macaroons, or fancy cheeses. Drink them down like coffee & tea. I’d observe their flight patterns,
their feeding patterns, their plumage.
I would cry at them, scream their names
into pillows, let them wash down the bathtub drain. I would put a lock on them.

I would dress them in flowing skirts &
soft sweaters, in oversized hoodies &
fuzzy robes. I’d keep them warm
without overheating them. I would love
them too hard. I would never quit them.

I will be obsessed with them, mourn their deaths or their prolonged absences. I will remember them in any hell. I will marry them. At times I’ll hate them. I will make them mine. I will assure that they are the things to remember me by.

Published by Jennifer Neal

Poet in Michigan.

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