Heather OC: Week 24 of 208

Mosh Pit

Sol LeWitt - Negative Pyramid - Mass MoCA

We are a structure

         At Lollapalooza -

The way you grab

         My arm and yank

         Me through, bestie,  Beastie

Boys, metallic beats, and certain injury.

My skinny legs dredge Doc Martens and strive

        To keep up with you;

Your vintage leather jacket, cries to

“Fucking move” part the crowd and

         You rescue me

In a way I could never rescue

You. Reach out my hand

To yank you out of that orange

Grove. Lift that index off

That trigger. Lock that gun back

In your father’s cabinet. Yank you

Away from that table in that Florida

Restaurant. Lift you from that unbearable

Alone. Lock my fingers with your fingers.

Remind you of all that waits outside

The writhing bodies. The crowd

Surfing chaos of heartbreak.

The first draft of this poem was inspired by the art workx posted above during a poetry retreat at Mass MoCA.