Jesse Breite
Meeting
Cover Art: Joseph Albers, "Sanctuary from the series Graphic Tectonic," 1942, Lithograph, MOMA
Meeting
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Smoke veined the cindered walls,
and the chairs shook apart as they shrieked on concrete, fell into circles. A man stood up in dim light. Don’t be too hungry, dear addict heart--gift the pull of your belly just enough tug to still the torso and all of its demands. Don’t be too angry, inflamed swell of my body--the mind can explode if you don’t share some suffering. My name is You, and I’m abused by my own hand, my own bones. Don’t be too lonely, dear face-- the presence you allow yourself is also a choice--something you accept, if you can. Don’t be too tired, all my furtive being--only rest can make you holy, newborn as we are after rest when light distributes what we need from what we need. My name is You, and I’m a user. My teeth dissemble, rot and fall. Give me one wish: unloose all who’ve loved me. Write the story of my life--black construction paper every page. |
Jesse Breite’s recent poetry has appeared in Spillway, Crab Orchard Review, Terrain, and Prairie Schooner. His first chapbook, The Knife Collector, was published in 2013, and he is an associate editor for The Good Works Review. He is also librettist for three of Atlanta composer Michael Kurth’s scores, the most recent of which was performed by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestras in March 2018. Jesse teaches high school English in Atlanta where he lives with his wife and son.
