your cephalic vein
&
there is always a rational explanation for these things
MARISA KAY BROCKWAY
your cephalic vein there is a warm wind like lover's breath across my sternum, and I think, I am too preoccupied with love and the Amazon is burning and Black people are getting killed by cops and most of the population can't even agree on 'truth' and kids are dying in churches and schools and all i can think of is your hands in such specific detail. I could draw the squarish tips of your fingers and map the ropes of your blood, how that one river flows around from your forearm to your index and the way the skull on your hard hand softens when viewed from between the cushions of my thighs and there are rich men stealing little girls to make them wives and people dying on the streets and in understaffed hospitals alone and i'm just thinking about how an artist spends hours mixing colors to match flesh tones. perfecting shadows with pigment to render their subject's form with breath and dimension and really the artist is just painting from their own singular perception and if perception is reality then the portrait and the subject are the same to the arts are you just a canvas for my melancholy? my heart beats like a thick drum and i think, i have always reveled in the ache of nostalgia and the honeybees are disappearing and someone just went bankrupt over a broken bone and soon Miami will be underwater and they elected a rapist to the supreme court they elected a racist to the white house and all I can think of is how much i don't wan't to think about you anymore. there is the smell of smoke in the air and it skims across my eyelashes. there is iron on my tongue. the wind is just collisions of temperature and a painting is just pigmented imitation. you never think about me anymore. |
there is always a rational explanation for these things
i. Heartbeat–– [...voltage gated ion channels open to allow a flooding of calcium into the myogenic cell. depolarization occurs and propagates the action potential through the heart walls, activating contractile muscle cells.] I could feel you restrain your trembling frequency, a chemical cascade beneath my fingertips on your carotid. touching you was like putting my hand on plucked guitar strings; taut steel, quivering. you might deny what I called cosmic coincidence, but you wouldn't argue the principles of physiology. you squeezed my opposite body with a quickening pulse and said that you liked how i moved. ii. Pheromones–– [...chemical signals are released into the environment and detached by another member of the same species through scent. the stimulated olfactory nerve synapses in the hypothalamus and emotions emerge.] you found astrology amusing at best, even while standing beneath the full moon and admiring the slow migration of an eclipse. our neural circuitry lit up like neon signs when we were close. chemical collisions that activate soft machinery beneath thin bones. you weren't my type but i felt a primal, urgent attraction. you held me and inhaled deeply, asking if it was strange that you liked the smell of my bare skin. iii. Quantum Engtanglement–– [...in which the quantum states of two or more particles can be described only in relation to each other. despite any amount of spatial separation, particles can be observed to be simultaneously changing the other.] I didn't know you from before and we didn't speak after. in moments of stillness or a mellow silver drizzle i am aware of a shift in my atoms in relation to yours. across unknowable space- time, you change and i change. there is celestial wisdom in my cells that tells me we are inextricably intertwined. we change. you still wonder about me sometimes. iv. Occam's Razor [...a scientific and philosophical rule that posits when multiple explanations are presented for an occurrence, the most simple explanation is likely correct.] this is not a poem. this is not love and it never was. there are round, science-based explanations for the phenomena of our encounter. we are not, such as it is. |
to kaleidoscope is to express from a singular, inherently unique perspective-- to allow others a graphic glimpse into the sum of our individual colors and memories.
/// Marisa /muh-riss-uh/ noun. {she/her/mermaid} [variation of Latin word Maris] Definition: of the sea. Named after Marita Kay, maternal grandmother. Origin/ancestry: Various islands; Philippines, Annette Island, Ireland. Sun in Pisces, moon & rising in water-bearer Aquarius. Seattle born and raised. |