Attachment Theory
Look. The only way anything works is by slamming it into motion.
I used to throw my back into neighbours’ cars,
Snow days and tires spinning to life in dirty slush.
I was always too much of a coward for contact sports,
And you traded chilled rinks for chlorine pools when you were ten,
But we both knew in our bones
That we needed to be thrown before you could get inside us.
I’m talking about the heartbeat between pulling you up
And letting you fall to the floor at the last second. What I mean
Is that we thought we needed to know someone else’s capability to hurt us,
Needed to stare it down and believe in its divinity,
Before we could let them hold our hand. You think there’s a dignity
To living like that, when you’re in it. The acknowledgement
Of danger. The thrill of wanting to love it and knowing it’ll love you back.
Of course, now we know putting the knife to your own throat
Doesn’t mean it won’t cut you. These days,
I can’t make myself look at your violence
And find it natural. Some things shatter, some things bloom.
Some people aren’t meant for the pool.
I used to throw my back into neighbours’ cars,
Snow days and tires spinning to life in dirty slush.
I was always too much of a coward for contact sports,
And you traded chilled rinks for chlorine pools when you were ten,
But we both knew in our bones
That we needed to be thrown before you could get inside us.
I’m talking about the heartbeat between pulling you up
And letting you fall to the floor at the last second. What I mean
Is that we thought we needed to know someone else’s capability to hurt us,
Needed to stare it down and believe in its divinity,
Before we could let them hold our hand. You think there’s a dignity
To living like that, when you’re in it. The acknowledgement
Of danger. The thrill of wanting to love it and knowing it’ll love you back.
Of course, now we know putting the knife to your own throat
Doesn’t mean it won’t cut you. These days,
I can’t make myself look at your violence
And find it natural. Some things shatter, some things bloom.
Some people aren’t meant for the pool.
June Lin is a young poet. She loves practical fruits, like clementines and bananas. She tweets sometimes at @junelinwrites.
Art: Yuno Shiota, 『どしゃぶり』 Doshaburi Heavy Rain 286 cm × 205 cm, acrylic and oil pastel on paper, 7.9.2021