“Our First Fight” by Trystan Popish

I can still see the sting 
of my words red across his face.
And I can’t apologize.
It’d be no use.

There’s too much between us now,
too much debris for words to undo words’ work.
There is nothing to be said, only too late wishes
for time machines and lobotomies,

wishes once again that words were tactile creatures 
that could be captured and contained,
vicious little magpies caged by pearly calcium bars
before they can inflict any pain on the outside world.

But words have wings. Even Homer knew
how quickly they can fly away,
one dark, shape-shifting cloud
swifter and more violent than the wind.

About Trystan Popish
She/Her/Hers

Trystan Popish writes poetry and personal essays. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Open Minds Quarterly and Santa Fe Writers Project Quarterly. She is currently finishing her first book of poetry, The Blue Desolation.