It’s Not Fair, But We’re Related
First you’re something else. And then you’re back. Then you’re not here anymore.
What did you expect from a distant relative? This family has never been golden.
This family has never been family.
Sometimes the mountains above Anywhere Ridge are just mountains and
sometimes they are dusted with powder-blue symbolism.
Look, it’s snowing now. Witness.
I’ll just sit by the window. I’ll just equivocate and sustain.
I’ll invite you back again before you arrive. I’m that kind of a guy. I am. The
family approves. That’s how we got this way.
So what poised uncertainty shall we activate next? Perhaps a symmetrical
opposition. Deep wet wrists. Just slap them on the table next to the breeding tray.
Now you’re enticingly enigmatic again. The family’s with you, but it’s not really
the family that does that. It’s the arrangement of the relatives.
We’re already overextended. We live in a little picture window with our name on
Now your motion has been suspended. Now your suspension has been distributed
to willing participants. Several of them know you didn’t mean to be this way. Several
recognize the uneasy resemblances. Separation in degrees but not very many. And several
summer in the mountains above Anywhere Ridge where their powder-blue symbolism
grows increasingly subtle with every passing relative.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.