Wringer
By Holiday Noel Campanella
Things are worse the farther we get from your aliveness. I thought I could fill it with action, the holes you left, but I keep returning to the stillness of my bed. I can’t run at night. My dreams tangle into you. I turn corners into what should be empty rooms and you are in them. There you are— in the morning I tell my grandmother about my dreams. That you are exploring— in my house in Nashville, where you’ve never been, you do not speak. You are observant. You do not smile. You are not sure about this death thing yet. I am not so sure about this death thing yet. You never did trust anything easily. Would repeat yourself over and over, wanted people to get things right. You’re putting God through the wringer right now. She’s trying to convince you to trust her, don’t you know she’s God? You tell her you were always told God was a man, is she sure she’s God? But you should know why— you were always surrounded by us women. You could never have been given a man as God. He never could have convinced you to sit down, have a few more bites, stay.
Holiday Noel Campanella is a multi-disciplinary writer and artist. Her work has been exhibited and sold nationally (The Smithsonian Museum, The Clay Studio, Anthropologie), published in lit mags and journals (Gigantic Sequins, Philadelphia Stories, Imposter Lit, San Pedro River Review), and is in public and private collections (The Free Library of Philadelphia, Vanderbilt Libraries Special Collections). She has a BFA from the University of Pennsylvania with The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.
03/19 / Poetry Reading and Conversation with visiting poet-in-residence Sunni Brown Wilkinson & local poet Elizabeth Jacobson / The BBar at The Betsy-South Beach, Miami Beach, FL / Live and Live-Streamed on Instagram Live/Facebook Live at @swwimmiami / 7-8:30 pm EST / Free
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love the ending so much.
wow, wow, and wow. what an amazing poem! thanks Holiday Noel Campanella, and (as always) SWWIM.