Eli Shaw

Because the pain is not mine to write about

I will write, instead,
of this morning’s trash can
– the condom & five
cooked cherry tomatoes
I wanted to eat
but couldn’t
because of anticipating
the pop, the wet,
seeds so small
they could slip
between anyone’s
teeth, even without
this gap so big
I can dream through it.
When rock climbing,
my friend tells me,
you’ve got to trust
the gaps. Crank your foot
until it holds, fall
so hard what catches
you isn’t the gear
but the prayers
of your partner.
I’ll say I quit
praying when I quit
god but I’m just whistling
through my spaced-open
mouth, waking to count
the candy on my
necklaces, sleeping
to approximate
resurrection this isn’t
a god complex it’s
a product of holding
everyone you meet
in the marrow &
aren’t we all
a complex I mean
complicated I mean
stuffing our fingers
in the cracks I mean
popping our cherry
tomatoes or trying to
I mean making sauce
of the wreckage
I mean it’s beautiful, right?

Eli Shaw is a queer, trans poet currently based in Tucson, Arizona. His work has appeared previously in Longleaf Review, Rust and Moth, and Vagabond City Lit and is forthcoming in Ghost City Review and Foglifter Journal. He works in conservation. You can find him on Twitter @elishaw04.