Catch the Wind

Love is born through the absurdity of Knowing another

Or rather– the endeavor of Knowing another

Which remains forever unfulfilled.

Perhaps that is the allure of Love–

Like a hamster running on its wheel

Moving nowhere in time and space

Love keeps Knowing just out of arm’s reach

With every step we take, Love takes two

So we run

With an earnest hope in our hearts that someday

The wheel under our feet will spin fast enough

To grasp this coveted Knowing

And allow us to lift the veil of our lover

Revealing the resplendent fullness

Of their being

sanguine seance

i still believe

in aimless walks around the city

in serendipitous encounters

with strangers and friends

in divine repetition of numbers

and bookstore couches

in leaving the phone at home and running up hills

as the most e  ective method of “do not disturb”

i still believe

in disappearing

in mystery

in unrequited love and yearning

in baring my soul to another

without re  ection or trepidation

in 2am drunken professions of desire

as a primary love language

in soul-stirring insight only shared

with a friend and a journal

and whispering my secrets

to the moon

i still believe

in real Love

and the way it shatters under your bare feet

digging so deeply into your fragile flesh

that you must learn to get off your fucking couch

and walk again

i still believe

in Loss

as a catalyst for nurture

and a mirror

for all you have yet to lose

i still believe

like a child with a loose tooth

or my father chasing the

American Dream:

anxiously, hastily,

and with endearing delusion

to   ll an empty cavern

where Hope was once held

and now lost

just for today

Don’t just trace

the contours of a broken mind!

Scribble in a footnote or two!

Fill it with wet paint

sticky, sweet chemicals of

white and blue

so that I may focus on being a human

for longer!

I am at your service like a rabid dog

anxiously, viciously,


and without desire

I strike myself so I may feel what I’ve inflicted

a dutiful, obligatory penance

for the hurt I carried

and let spill onto lovers and friends

Perhaps we can mend next time

I’m in town


How tightly I’ve clung to promise and


How often I’ve let lovers hold smoky words

to shattered mirrors! But no—

I will feel good about things

Just for today

Write a poem about happier things

Just for today

Unravel the asphyxiation and breathe

And remind myself of mountaintops

Just for today

I am a magician

Holding onto hope to suspend death

Just for today

Just for today

Just for today

Estefani Schubert is a queer Uruguayan Jewish poet, painter, social worker, and community organizer based in Salt Lake City. Their work explores themes of love, death, rebirth, sex, mysticism, anti-capitalism, and ancestral wisdom through written and visual mediums. She is fascinated and fueled by absurdism and surrealism in all forms.

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