Current
Issue
Volume 12.1
Jordan Ranft
—
Morning Meditation
What? I can’t meditate with a nicotine patch on?
The hills are burning, and I think god’s busy.
I think god’s fecklessly pulling wings off airplanes.
Not everyone gets it. They have
a popsicle where a spine should be. I have
an angry dog for a liver, and it hates me
even though I stopped beating it years ago.
I’m zipping the thinking self into the thinking meat.
Sun swelling up like a hornet sting,
a ransom note of light nailed to my cheek.
Here’s my theory: time isn’t a line,
it’s chipped enamel in a crowded cabinet.
It’s full of destructive potential. Getting sober
is like defusing a bomb with your teeth.
Staying sober is just a matter of repetition.
So far, the performance has been well-received.
I’m doing my best; hitting marks and dancing like
I’m bleeding out. I breathe and the inhabited
moment widens like a mouth. Time breathes
back into me. Simultaneously, everything
sizzles into focus. I think of god, of staying
sober, of a mouth snapping shut on my head.
Jordan Ranft is a Pushcart and Best of the Net nominated writer. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Carve Magazine, Frontier, and Boulevard. @jordan_ranft
