America Ripening

Contributor

Editor’s note: Simone Kurial took the Synapse Storytelling Contest first place award for creative writing. Category judge, Synapse editor in chief Ariane Panzer, said, “The rhythm and repetition of this poem were perfection and the imagery took a strong hold on me, making this piece compelling from start to finish. The language really made me feel something indescribable!”

I am a pendulum

Rocking back and forth to a finite lullaby

A cradle poorly balanced on the crescent of my tongue

I siphon fruit from the tree while it’s still firm and place it on the shelf,

Hoping it will soften.

I am a pendulum

Oscillating between extremes without pause

I package myself into a syringe and slide beneath your flesh

You dispose of my body where nobody can see,

Hoping it will soften.

I am a pendulum

Sublimed by the tides of the world

Steam gathers beneath my cracked lenses

Blurring my perception of what’s worth fighting for

Burning misconceptions of what’s worth waiting for

My neighbors walk on a bed of dull nails beneath a hard rain,

Hoping it will soften.

I am a pendulum

An arc bending back onto itself

Compacting my aggression and fear into a dense tablet

That I dissolve in a glass of object impermanence

I capsized in my own mirage and now I cling to a concrete slab,

Hoping it will soften

I am a pendulum

I live inside a grandfather clock shielded by a glass door

Do you have enough energy to wind me up again?

I see you planting seeds of patience in the desert ground,

Hoping it will soften.