by E.M. Lark
deep breaths taken in twofold, I am learning what it is like again to trust.
our hearts are uneasy, our mouths dry,
but surviving amidst its impossible replenish.
this game of survival has never been one I’ve understood—
individualist, eat-or-be-eaten
gnawing at the flesh of camaraderie
we lost sight of that hope long before we could sink our teeth
into something more fresh.
but we are trying, oh how we are trying –
we are far more alive than we are dead, but I can still see what haunts us
is in the room.
are we sharing ghosts?
exchanging phantoms hand-for-hand, in this market trade of troubles,
your hand shakes like mine, and for the first time in forever, I don’t feel
so alone.
I am not afraid to tremble, not afraid to be soft –
I hope you are not afraid in front of me.
we endure too much fear, heartache, exsanguination,
in this one fractured life
wouldn’t it be nice to live and die a little slower, together?
E.M. Lark (they/them) is a writer/reader & reviewer/casual hauntologist currently based in NYC (and also everywhere). Recent works can be found in Hearth & Coffin, corporeal, JAKE, Penumbra Online, The Lumiere Review, among others past and future. On most social medias as @thelarkcalls.