She Leaves for the Day

Adam Fleming Petty — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 21:00:01 +0000

while Franklin waits. While Franklin waits
for naught, I turn the TV on
in time to have Blackburn & Green
vow to get the compensation
that I deserve for injuries
sustained at work. Sustained at work
by a back pillow and caffeine,
supporting both of us, my wife
comes home to me and Franklin sprawled
before the door, our bellies up
to show our love. To show our love
without her here is like squaring
the triangle, so I follow
the bouncing ball that is Franklin
chasing his mouse toy as to learn
how the house goes. How the house goes
on like this I don’t know, the walls
are going deaf, I can applaud
one-handed, and when Franklin meows
without a sound I see we’re trapped
inside a koan. Inside a koan,
no one can hear you dream; online,
though, we are our fantasies, the
blogs of other such invalids
will let me live out how I feel,
not who I am. Not: Who I Am,
not-earning, not-contributing,
not-compromised-good-for-nothing,
who reads blogs without blogging, who
watches cat videos without
posting comments. Posting comments
of his own, Franklin stares at me
with what seems pity, and instead
of sitting there and taking it,
as if testing my dignity,
I stare him back. I stare him back
through a camera, following him
up to the attic, and I climb
through the lens like a secret door,
switching the light setting over
to night vision. Tonight, vision
of loveliness, my wife will come
home to a Post-It that I left
saying she can find me online,
hiding behind a video.

Rhetorical Catechism (Malachi Ritscher 1954-2006)

Adam Fleming Petty — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 12:00:48 +0000

What can one man do?

He can join a crowd and be dissolved into it until his hand breaks the meniscus and touches the hem of a suit jacket.

He can lift Donald Rumsfeld’s face out of its skin and wear it like a pelt.

He can watch as the camera turns its back on him.

He can slash his throat and pour his blood into a pool that will hold the reflections of his judges.

He can burn himself and let the smoke released from his body become intertwined with the fumes of car exhaust as it is
borne to the LORD.

He can wear a pelt and receive the curse not meant for him.

He can slice open his belly and lay his intestines on the median that the people may know their fortune.

He can lip-sync to the man giving a speech.

He can respond to the altar call and distinguish himself among the congregation that his soul be saved on their behalf.

He can fold his knees into the lotus position and levitate for a few seconds.

He can use his larynx as a phylactery.

He can move to the front of the line.

He can take the place of a painted bull as a roadside curiosity.

He can fill his heart with helium and let go of the string.

He can carve his collarbone into a divining rod.

He can turn his body to ash that is a mote in the windshields of the passing traffic.

He can join the crowd milling around the altar and become caught in the thicket.

He can elbow his way through the crowds of people and be molded into the appropriate shape by the opposing force
of their bodies.

He can provide instructions for his disposal.

He can strop the razor on his forearm.

He can talk his way onto the ship and be thrown overboard to calm the storm.

He can wear some ridiculous outfit and wave to the motorists from the parking lot.

He can be placed before a shrine and set alight that the flesh drip off of his bones and harden in the shape
of his silhouette.

He can throw his life away.

He can appear in the shot as the camera pans across the onlookers.

He can burn on the coastline as a lighthouse warning ships against running aground.

He can be burned to ashes and collected in an urn that will balance the scales.

He can blaspheme the god he loves and make an exile out of his apostasy that none may follow.

He can perform a publicity stunt and experience malfunctions.

He can efface the name on his tax forms that the recipients may write in their own.

He can conflate the sensation of the flames leathering his skin with the touch of a hand upon his shoulder.

He can singe his fingertips clean of prints and join the gladhandlers with ink on his hands.

He can expend all of the available oxygen and cause the surrounding air to collapse into a tempest.

He can burn the book after committing it to memory.

He can be carried on a bier by an angry mob as they stop for directions.

He can walk the plank and tilt the seesaw.

He can stand beside the others in the fire.

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She Leaves for the Day

Rhetorical Catechism (Malachi Ritscher 1954-2006)