Chase Twichell

To The Reader: If You Asked Me

I want you with me, and yet you are the end
of my privacy. Do you see how these rooms
have become public? How we glance to see if--
who? Who did you imagine?
Surely we're not here alone, you and I.

I've been wandering
where the cold tracks of language
collapse into cinders, unburnable trash.
Beyond that, all I can see is the remote cold
of meteors before their avalanches of farewell.

If you asked me what words
a voice like this one says in parting,
I'd say, I'm sweeping an empty factory
toward which I feel neither hostility nor nostalgia.
I'm just a broom, sweeping.

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 20, 2003

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Comments about To The Reader: If You Asked Me by Chase Twichell

  • A Whisper And A Clamor (8/30/2016 7:04:00 PM)

    I like this.....it's kinda funny. Thank you.

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Read poems about / on: farewell, alone