Breakup poem because the earth is round

by Abner Dormiendo

That’s the way all story goes: down the river and into
the ocean. Fold each pages into a boat and kiss these
narratives goodbye. Let the fishes make a tragedy
out of our lives. We’re too tired to pity ourselves, too tired
of our own lame books on the shelves, the same chapters over
and over again, the same water and the same wave in
the same goddamn shore. Somewhere a rock is trying its best
to remain a rock, a hill is dreaming to be a mountain,
but nothing grows and nothing stays. From here it’s all downwards
because down is the essence of life, like the rain, like roots,
like I carve your name on a stone and tried to make it fly
when all of a sudden gravity, like how dead leaves love
the weight of the ground because it knows that falling apart
is also falling together in the sense that there is
an invisible center in which all lives continue
to persist, and this is giving back to a life bigger
than our tiny lives, so applaud the stone for falling down,
applaud the mountain, rock and leaf, who tore themselves apart
so that Earth remains a circle, that same goddamn circle.


Day 3 of NaPoWriMo: write a fourteener, which is basically a poem with fourteen syllables per line. I apologize if I only got the volition to write it now. The thought of a formal constraint as a prompt is a hurdle I was only able to circumvent just now. But there we are.