A new poem by Hannah Patterson.

Slow motion

I have to go to the arms dealer and hand him my legs
I have to bind the legs with a piece of twine before handing them over and then I have to say,
mighty fine day, isn’t it? because arms dealers inevitably make me think of america
america is fucked
I have to catch up
I have to delay delay delay
I have to endure
I have to find a different way to find the rock at the centre of my life
I have to grow
I have!
I always have to jiggle the key in the lock, swearing, for five minutes before I can enter the room
I have to keep going
beyond the point that I
have to let go

You have to meet me in the square like you promised
You have to, there’s no way around it
You have to, knowing that only you can do it
You have to, pickpockets surround me
You have to, quick, their bells are shaking
You have to, regard me the way I want to be seen

We had to stop
We had to toil
We had underneath our nails, the ugliest things
We had, very much so, loved it
We had we had we had
We had expressed it
We had you
We had laid there, zoning at the beach.

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