Jordan Ranft

I Explain Exhaustion (CW: substance use)

the overdose will not be cataloged
          there will be no mention of bodies on the carpet
          ​I slipped the Narcan back into the box & buried it
in the garden. I do not care what will grow.
​          alchemy never really turns blood into gold;
so no more trauma wearing poetry
like a paper mask; or thin-wristed
          ​nightmares where rivers eat my father.
​over and over my love painted 'healing'
          on a flower pot that a squirrel pushed off
          ​the patio. it broke before being filled with
chamomile. replace the door hinges with
          ​velvet. douse the candles in the skulls. no rituals
for healing. this house has no corners.
no broken face behind my face. next time
          I disturb the dead until statues weep blood.
​I will dance flame from the coals and write
          the poem where my sorrow is my sparrow.
          but today has no eyes or skin. it blesses nothing.
may all metaphors die. may these gardens
​be gardens. I will remain intact for so long
I forget healing ever meant anything at all.
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Jordan Ranft

Jordan Ranft is a social worker and writer. He currently lives in NYC with his partner and small dog. He writes poetry, fiction, and music criticism. He has been previously published or has work forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Bayou, Bodega, Variety Pack, Beaver Magazine, and Midway.