Casey Gilfillan

Steeped in the hesitant depths of my own wait,
My hands remain still, hugged by the thick, fossilizing
Material of the atmosphere. My mouth does not move, it
Was saying something to you. I don’t remember what that is now.

Bound to this subversion, I cannot let go.
The hands will not let go, how can I not but submit to myself?
The world wars before me, all other transgressions are
Permitted in the wake of exhaustion.

And from this, suffering follows.
Victim of ambivalence, struck by
The austere and vapid wall of ignorance.
Look away, let it happen.

Unable to break through to the surface,
I must cling to the obscene void of self.
Inward somewhere lies the dying response
To your incessant questions, but
I don’t remember what that is now.