Trans-Relation
1.
We don’t have the familiar in English. So, let us not be familiar. We don’t know each other anymore. No universals will align these universes. We’ll fragment the story. Water it down.
Does this help: all you have said never was.
“poof”
The truth can be distorted. History can be shaded.
Imagine this as a tableau:
::all is frozen::
We are allegoried. Another male; another female; all organs; all breath; all wonderfully sure. There is always a predecessor; a stretched-out lie; a triptych-ed implication. And, well: Love.
2.
You handed it all to me. The man said to place the paper in my hand. He said I was to receive it. No lifting; no heaving; no quick gestures; I was to be plain. Dormant. You did your part you did and it was deliciously free and it was, it was, still steamy in my palm.
You see, this is a study in motion, You moved; I levitated.
I didn’t mean to open wounds. Every story is another story; another tainted-tale. A ridiculous fable; a heightened anecdote; a marriage of words. Now, tell me the real story. Jump back a few years.
Try to communicate. Stick to the truth and stay there. Stick to the truth then stick it.
Not every story is worth its words.
© Umansky 2011
blog of poet, leah umansky 
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