Lauren Suchenski’s Poetry

Oct 31, 2016 by

Lauren Suchenski’s Poetry

I Hate That Trite Resolution


I hate your hand on the trigger
pulling these cliches towards us
with a firm, magnet grasp

I know you.
I could spot you, eyes closed
staring at the world hanging from the pinwheel
mobile above the sun
4 light years away –
I’d be floating with zero gravity
and I’d still see you darting around
a little glow of blue and green
sparking around this earth
with last night’s dreams not yet washed out of your hair
and this morning’s sunrise not yet brushed out of your teeth

you know me.
soft, solid excuses for being late tucked under the lip of my chin
and sorrow fingers drilling into a bed of flowers
weeping “How come they don’t all see it?”

I could take you (abstracted, swollen and dreamy on the end of my spoon)
and introduce you to every tiny moment of my life that you were not a part of
and you’d still see me. You’d see me. You’d see me three years old, teeth splayed open in smiles
and you’d recognize me then too.
You’d see me – watch me like a ghost hawking through the places you never got to see me:
seven years old and spouting stories to my toys, thirty-three picking the children up from school,
fifty-two and leaning over my garden with a spade, thirteen and staring down the hallway lost
and you’d recognize me then too. You’d recognize me
skinless, formless – just a silent spark of light.
The exact hue I’d glow
would echo in your ears like an old familiar tune.

People change – yes, maybe –
pull wrinkles out from underneath their eyes
drag new thoughts out from between their brains
find new places to hide, new rhythms to ride, new trains to catch,
tick new boxes on tax forms and assume new shapes in their armchairs.
But the song that you are does not stop singing
does not stop ringing like an ancient voice
that hums without a mouth

I know you
I will never not know
that silent melody that ticks in your bones



I Could Stand Here Holding This Heavy Weight In My Mouth


I could stand here holding this heavy weight in my mouth
or I could let you droop off of me
petal by ageless petal,
aching, ancient and afraid
pummeling your head into something hard as you always seem to be

I cannot lift that leaden head, not with words or sounds or rhythms,
but I can rock it back and forth between the silence in my hands
and I can carry it with me in the back of my throat
as I heave through another day without you

I think of all the rotting dreams that sting me right between the knees
the endless days I’ve never approached
and all the ways I’ll never know your mind

And then I think of this love I have for you
this acid-fire that drips through my blood
that carries me down the dark and narrow pathways to your heart
that fills up my brain with saccharine sweet splices of moments
and I think I might never stand to walk another day without you

I think of those ashen white nights in the swell of your heat
those curled up moments that stick on my skin
and the endless feeling of youth that chased us in our sleep
I think of your heartbeat and the distance it rings from me
I think of that empty place where your words once stood
I think of you, and I think of me – a pair of new bruises saluting the moon.

Then I place you in a small cardboard box,
I whisper promises to the twilight sky
and I send you down the river
basking in the shadow of the light.


 As a poet, ballet dancer, actress, photographer, painter, mother and Waldorf educator, Lauren Suchenski believes in the inherent creative capability within all people.

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