what if they’re right.

by Michael King

grab the sink by both sides
and glance up, try not to
laugh or cry or take hold of
whatever ropes we reach for
in these moments, facing
our naked selves

and what if they’re right, the
ones who left, saw
our shaking, blistering
brokenness, ran, what if
all these fragments won’t
ever come together, no
matter our frantic
rearranging

what if they’re
right, voices that chase
us down in the darkness,
outrun them all day and
find them curled up
against us on
the sofa

what if they’re
right, drowning out
all the i love yous and
the friends who insist we’ve
got something worth
sticking around
for, what if we got it
all wrong when we
imagined things revealed
in the light, hidden
away in the dark

poetry