103
Doesn’ t Anybody?
You look so tired, they said, so soft. My hands and my arms have started shaking, the tremors in my calves have spread like a virus in an elementary school classroom. Children in my bones making it impossible to sleep, impossible for my muscles to relax, be still, quiet down. You look so tired, they said. I am tired, so tired that I can’ t even pretend to care about crying in public; it takes more energy to hold in tears than to let them flow. If I were a spiderweb I would be stronger than I am now. You look at me as if deciding how to best discard a jagged piece of glass. I am glass; glassy-eyes, transparent, hard, cold, a barrier, a beautiful window in an abandoned church where nobody comes to worship. Dried wax on the altar. The smell of ancient incense in the walls, in the carpet. Grooves worn in the pew where your knees would fit so perfectly, if you ever came back to me. Doesn’ t anybody see? I am a sacred building, I am haunted, I am full. Doesn’ t anybody see me? I am a hallowed sanctuary for myself and other neglected things. I am full. I am full. I am full. I am wrapping my fingers in string, over and over like a prayer. Doesn’ t anybody see each other anymore? Candles left unlit at vigils, hallways empty and echoing, spirits trapped and bound in marble doesn’ t anybody see? My shaking limbs, my holy body, I am full. Doesn’ t anybody see each other anymore?
Piper Toohey Olsen
103
English