The Vault

[ time in the veins of someone who turns eggs for a living ]

by Jennifer Watman

from Columbia Poetry Review no. 19



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everyday i stand up and the world s yess to me ; sit down!
sit down!
there’res no room for you’her fcking nothing.

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 but i da now!
i say i am!
i am and that must b other people who feel.
otherwise there’d be no no thing s.

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 gertrude can you here me >
 can you hear me?
 there s cobwebs n the creases f the concrete >
 i’m frayed you’ve been painfully misunderstood.

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but ya’ll should no that what i love and what i don’t r noe differenet.

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 televisno says kids are a show so they become n screen.

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 i say i learn’d to life from the pictures n some laugh.

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 but there is some truth s in all images, images because to replicate is to say
 someone learned ‘t somewhere someone felt.
n how can you say no that s not that happen’d?
 i am determined 2 happen even if the world kills.
at least it killed n i lived. at least i fell the truth n becoming.

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 the truth in remembering those times when we were young n didn’t have
 2 take care of sleeves we remember those s better because we didn’ have to
 thing most often most ly a feeling like the feeling from falling asleep when
 someone else drove and oyu could tell you were moving but it felt like a bath
instead of a marathon.

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i have to close my eyes to feel anything now i.
 have to close my eyes i.
 have to close my eyes i under y.

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but if everything s talking n a room i can curl up n corner sleep ng.
 why?

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s only motion so y can’t i leave r love the birds talking at 2am?

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 it could be but s nt comforting s scare s me why i have to go back to the
 fetus again plum
sweet plum sweet fair s th’air any other way?

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speared whide my narrow hands and grabbed no thing.
jabbed air.

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 n an empty bottle n a black room back to the [whitemade] negro cave.

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 i noe understand why michelle crisis all the time.

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 i can’t tell if my knees are really wet or just cold.
 can’t believe my house s this clean, n my body s this old.

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there s a narrow f’air about something that s sour n sweet.
 you get the bold st of both extremes.

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but this candy‘sas 2 much packaging cloud you tell you weren’t that happy
with it.
weren’t that comfortable?
i’m uncomfortable.
2 long 2 notice on is t’ought it.

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(not be honest about it)

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 you pay eight dollars for something stupiud n the whole thing fell.
 n then chris comes n wanting 2 explain and there s no thing 2 b explained.

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take everything!
 take anything.
i’m shame’d either.

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you are not you but a lesson in learning people.

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y the fuck who’d watch a funeral on tv? 

 i’m hurt!
i’m dying!
 i’m leaving!
 i feel sick.

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 so when you really like someone wyou don’ know what do you thing
 why do you feel’ned 2 talk n deeep perception?

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 i sat n the couch for a long time n think n there s much 2 say but omen
 (none) be s life’that feel s like thin s be—come n from n—other contain, e,
 ment (continent)

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 i c’and believe you didn’t wanna kiss r makeout instead of eat!
 we had to do something with r teeth.

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i feel the need to love and alarming rate.
 n i feel the please to speak or say such a thing s now’here.

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 i do not subscribe to your form of a life that negates me.

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not today but tomorrow,

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not tomorrow but the day after,

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not the day after but the day endured,

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not the day endured but the day imagined,

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not the day imagined but
the day—

                                                                              (done)