Poets logo

The Wall-to-Wall Is Calling

& I am the girl from Mars.

By Alex McKelleyPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
Like
"Q Train" by Nigel Van Wieck

I have been trying

& trying & trying & trying

& I think, maybe

The difficult lies inside of the try

The push / pull / of it

The claw-marks digging deep /

The muscle twitch / ache / of it

But the try is not corporeal. The try cannot be dragged through the subway tunnels. I cannot pick the try out from under my nail beds after a long day of digging in the dirt.

I do not know how to explain what it is I am after / or if I’m on a path heading toward anything

at all /

But / follow me here, any way /

& let me lead you with this

I have lived in six different apartments since I left my falling home with

the dilapidated house & the birds

that always flew too closely to my scalp.

Today

Today it is mid-December / the ice has turned brown /

&

I have yet to receive a Christmas card / or a greeting of sorts /

but this morning I did come home to four new letters asking to collect

my debt

I am not very good at staying in one place for very long

My weakness lies within the tips of my toes / bad at staying stationary / never very good at sitting still /

&

sometimes when it’s really late

& I’m walking from the train / alone /

I like to pretend that I am no longer just a human / girl / wandering lost through a city /

but I am / instead / an alien /

a lost creature / falling high from beyond the sun / I land /

/ exploring this planet / this body / this whole human form / for the very first time /

(you can’t be bad at something that was never meant for you)

/ and I am not religious / but / I’ve prayed to David Bowie twice this week /

& I am still learning / how to go about this life without burning to convince everyone / that all the parts of me are real /

/ I think / they can’t be so mad if they know the whole of it /

/ & now I’m starting to wonder if maybe I am the birds flying too closely to the scalp /

/ maybe I am the dilapidated house / the letters from debt collectors scattered on the bedroom floor /

/ & I am the brown snow I trudged through to get home this morning / & I am the businessman who made me cry /

/ & I am my dirty bedsheets / & I am the girl from mars /

surreal poetry
Like

About the Creator

Alex McKelley

word-girl

brooklyn, ny

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.