Impossible Task

Rose Hannaford

Black Ring

Day 4

She's been here for years
but yesterday, I heard she might
have told me a lie.

Every evening I visit her
But would I count her as a friend?

Little white circle on a palm
Promises so much

  She tumbles down in a waterfall
  tells me I'll be just fine
    As long as I keep seeing her.

I know I shouldn't trust
the word of a stranger

“Yes, the pills can inhibit your libido.
Don't feel rushed to decide. (It could just be a phase.)”

But the day after, I see her
once more, and we talk. Then

when I leave, I don't take her with me.

Day 2

Like a newspaper flung in your face by the wind,
the image is drawn, displayed, unbidden

Drop [chin, stomach, neck] cave in say stop and again stop stop stop and then step into the coffin and curl and whip yourself leech every lechery into the wood and into the soil and bury yourself deeper lash round yourself chains until there’s no space no breath and you’re naught but empty flesh.

Day 1

I say that the world should have a thousand different words for love, because there are
a thousand different kinds

And maybe I'm just minus one

and i know how much you wish

i would give just that one
to you

i'm sorry
that i’m hurting you, my friend
but there's nothing i can do

(or would)
(I value you too much to lie)

i love you
but not that way.

Day 6

(I want to be but I’m gross I'm disgusting I'm a pervert or something
what if i'm not
I'm not filled, am I? I'm baroque
Pretend that there's nothing and there will be nothing
this voice intrudes telling lies?
but (~ pearl)
What if I'm not?
What if I'm just
an excuse a coward

Day 3

I’ll hear you No I’ll don’t worry Listen, You want to talk to me and I’m your friend, I care about you Yeah even though we’re standing in a kitchen in the evening, the sun’s setting through the window on the dinner I’m making, I’ll listen I’ll hear you

Day 5

I’m delighted to see I’m not alone, lock eyes, call out, wave, point and grin and say “are you ace? yeah me too” happy to find community (but you didn’t see inside…) even if later you drop your chin and inside writhe like it’s a lie brighter than your own skin belongs on another person a false assumption, an identity mistaken but I am, and you am, and I see you, you are And I’m happy to see you.

Day 7

I'm here. I am. I promise me
And it's so relaxing strangely
Even if I baroque a few times

Maroon and blue and mud-dappled hue
through the rain I drink the petrichor under this
umbrella term

And I can't finish this poem because I'm
still in it, still here
hematite lustrous and such a strange comfort
though some things still lurk
I can't say how I'll end because maybe I won't
A circling loop, endless forever
And for the now, I promise, I'm here.

Day 8

Three years ago I wrote this poem? Four? And here I am still.
I remember when we couldn't connect.
An unkempt line, worm wiggling
Floundering
But I'm connected. Oh I am connected. Oh the ends are connected.
And now I'm ready.
Here are my lines, ready to form rings
For all the others who feel a thousand different kinds of love
And perhaps just minus one.

Rose Hannaford

Rose Hannaford is an aspiring novelist, with occasional dalliances in poetry. She graduated in 2020 with a bachelor's degree in English, as well as minor degrees in Latin and Ancient Greek. Her lifelong love of stories has created in her a bubbling well of near-daily inspiration, and she hopes to share stories and poetry of discovery, self-exploration, grit, enchantment, and love. This is her first publication. She lives in the Pacific Northwest.