got chai with my ex-best friend after five years
and heard the ways she’d flattened herself
like every other woman I wish I wasn’t
and no one cried or screamed, closure
not even a word to hang a hat on
and it was not profound
drove from Los Alamos to Salt Lake
with a friend I wish I wanted like a lover
listening to music about revolution and romance
seeing the beauty of the west like a wet kiss
goodbye to my treasured past and fragile future
and it was not profound
walked to the top of a great hill
recited poetry and ate a large, rich sandwich
like a prophet rather than a despot
to punctuate the abandonment of my home
and prod the places where the wound won’t heal
and it was not profound
spent two weeks in an empty Toronto condo,
saw the Auschwitz exhibit and thought of grandma,
the stories she told and the ones she died holding,
felt the high ceilings fill with dread
until I slept enough to forget for a moment
and it was not profound