The Velocity of Sorrow

Poem by Maria Malacrida • Art by Jill Burhans




a rocking motion. this is how it begins,
and Joan alone under the rooftops like
a bird. the sparrows tread, mysterious;
daring to look down.
they dare to drown their brown, grey and
imaginary blue
into a sea that is not even there, a
muffled scream underneath wool
and leather and
shopping bags.

look at winter, falling into step with
months and months of waiting in
silence for it to reach me,
greet me with its fumbling hands
and hoarse voice.
I have been waiting, I know this is
no mistake.

grief speeds by and I watch the car-crash
of my mind, set in stone, trying to move
and trying to keep myself from
shaking.
the snow covers every bit of
brain, every side of love, and the wind carries
the sing-song rhythm of birds
falling one after another
saying I have waited too long but
have not moved at all.

I stand on the platform and
look at my hands trembling with emptiness,
yearning for a pen or a scrap of paper so that I can
let the words drown in the cool snow,
seal it under the sky and the wind, all eyes,
and make it reach you.

you change your name, see yourself, forget
you're there. you fade, but I always reshape you. words fly.