say the scars of the earth
aren’t asking to be sliced
today.
say i forget the stranger
as they drive away.
say i don’t get in trouble
for kneeling outside
your lawn.
say the tree doesn’t
feel like being climbed today,
or cut down,
or hugged.
say i scream
and no one looks.
say i go to bed tonight
alive.
say you’ve seen
thousands of strangers
kneeling at your lawn.
suppose poems
don’t need difference,
and when i pound my fists
to the lines,
scared that i don’t
either,
the words
barely rattle.
suppose there is
no movement.
suppose i miss it.
suppose
i already have.
suppose stillness
curls to safety
and i leave be
and i leave be
and i leave
Jaden Goldfain is pursuing her M.A. in Writing from Point Loma Nazarene University. Her work has appeared in CERASUS Magazine, San Diego Poetry Annual, among others. She loves Jesus, her friends, and people who either don’t exist or don’t know she exists. Twitter (X?): @j_goldfain

