Strawberry | Paisley Rekdal
I am going to fail. I'm going to fail cartilage and plastic, camera and arrow. I'm going to fail binoculars and conjugations, all the accompanying musics: I am failing, I must fail, I can fail, I have failed the way some women throw themselves into lover's arms or out trains, fingers crossed and skirts billowing behind them. I'm going to fail the way strawberry plants fail, have dug down hard to fail, shooting brown runners out into silt, into dry gray beds, into tissue and rock. I'm going to fail the way their several hundred hearts below surface have failed, thick, soft stumps desiccating to tumors; the way roots wizen in the cold and cloud black, knotty as spark plugs, cystic synapses. I'm going to fail light and stars and tears. I'm going to fail the way cowards only wish they could fail, the way the brave refuse to fail or the vain fear to, believing that to stray even once from perfection is to be permanently cast out, Wandering Jew of failure, Adam of failure, Sita of failure; that's the way I'm going to fail, bud and creosote and cloud. I'm failing pet and parent. I'm failing the food in strangers' stomachs, the slender inchoate rings of distant planets. I'm going to fail these words and the next and the next. I'm going to fail them, I'm going to fail her-- trust me, I've already failed him-- and the possibility of a we is going to sink me like a bad boat. I'm going to fail the way this strawberry plant has failed, alive without bud, without fruit, without tenderness, hugging itself to privation and ridiculous want. I'm going to fail simply by standing in front of you, waving my arms in your face as if hailing a taxi: I'm here, I'm here, please don't forget me, though you already have, I smell it, even cloaked with soil, sending out my slender fingers for you, sending out all my hair and tongue and brain. I'm going to fail you just as you're going to fail me, urging yourself further down to sediment and the tiny, trickling filaments of damp; thirsty, thirsty, desperate to drown if even for a little while, if even for once: to succumb, to be destroyed, to die completely, to fail the way I've failed in every particular sense of myself, in every new and beautiful light.
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