Jenna Ribbing
Jon Tribble Memorial Winner
I. We’re in trouble by noon.
II. Legend has it, I’m a vector of instability.
III. The truth is…I am just someone who is hungry. Let me in. Put me on a shelf. I’ll be your family.
IV. In the beginning, we live deliberately. We run with conviction. You, born as it was your right to touch fire. Me, singing for free. Concealment and revelation, zippered together. I wish I knew everything, you say. But are you a danger to yourself? I ask.
V. There’s a cloud or two to hide under. No violence today. I describe to you how the weight of myself crashing against me is sometimes unbearable, how there’s no such thing as being good, how there’s a difference between being lost and not being where you’re supposed to be. You just sit there quietly, because your love is a disaster. Sooner or later, you’ll decide what to do with your hands.
VI. The larkspurs don’t take kindly to the mighty wind. Everyone goes through phases where they’re built like a flower. You should be more careful, sweetheart, you whisper, eyes full of burst windows. Partners are cultivated, wards are tilled.
VII. Your face, sapid and scary, keeping vigil so no one drowns in their sleep. I tell myself I can always do without it. I tell myself I’d rather sit here with you broken than sit here alone.
VIII. In my dreams, you realize you never really let yourself look. You realize that you only felt encroached upon because you didn’t allow me enough freedom to move, because you took up too much room.
IX. Most people underestimate just how barren I can be. I can only hope to palm you the car keys, point you in an eastward direction, and assert, at least the house can’t burn down with you inside it if you’re not here.
X. In the end, I get angry and you get sad. You, picking bones that I throw. Me, blood gnashing teeth. Negative and positive space, snarled together. This hole you put me in isn’t deep enough and I’m climbing out right now, you say. But how do I learn to lose you again? I ask.
XI. The truth is…I am just someone who is not there.
XII. Legend has it, I never am.