Love is a Battlefield, Literally, Because the Planet is on Fire
& I’m too in love with this world & its creatures,
even though it feels like I’m choking sometimes,
burning in a mote of gold smoke, until I’m nothing,
I’m a shadow licking the floor. Better than being numb.
Believe me, I know. When we sing along in the car,
We are young, we are young, even though we are not,
because that’s how it is with trauma. Recovery. Memory
floods back, feelings attack, life pierces time’s firewall,
like the violet crocus cracking through mud & ice.
No one can tell us we’re wrong, except we are wrong,
our unchoreography, our shoals & escapes, our dyes.
Humans are the only animals to destroy our homes,
the only mammals who metabolize lies. Shame & fear
made me too much & not enough. Hope you don’t mind.
Hope you don’t mind I want to dive into this, that I’ll
never not be amazed, even if the sea boils & the sky
swallows us. I want to feel it all, to live, to give you
my heart, even if you don’t want it. Tell me you
love life too. Tell me you love sweet ruin, the wild
meadow, the looping war reenactment that is me.
* Writing Prompt: Take the title of a song and intervene with it. Add words or change the syntax to make it your own. You can also use the title to set a tone, find a rhythm, or locate a corporeal truth. And don’t forget to dance.
Margot Douaihy, PhD, is the author of Scranton Lace and Girls Like You (Clemson University Press). Her work has been featured in Colorado Review, Diode Editions, Florida Review, North American Review, PBS NewsHour, Portland Review, The South Carolina Review, Tahoma Literary Review, and elsewhere. A multimodal creative writer, Douaihy lets the identity of a project locate its final form.