Addie’s review published on Letterboxd :
32/? poem reviews inspired by every film i watch in 2019
You’ve got a baseball bat, but I’ve got your face and a rage you’ll never understand. White walls and rabbit dinners and escalators that only go down. It takes a lot to climb up that mountain. More to climb and keep climbing. But, we think of the sky, you know? Wonder what it could look like. Anything is better than trapped. So, we throw ourselves at each other. Boat and knee caps and motors eating me away. I think I got to see the ocean. Is this it? Blue and miles and miles. Oh, god, thank god, I got to see the swallowing ocean, the melting sky, before I drowned.
You’ve got a magic trick but I’ve got fire and it feels kind of good to follow your hand. Want to hold it. Want to see all your tricks. I got burned, but you don’t know what that feels like yet. You still believe in the magic of fire. I just know of its necessity. All the darkness, it’s nice to see something alive, even if it hurts. You know all the secrets of this house. The door that stays shut and the toy ambulance and the mom that is kind, you think. I’d follow you anywhere, arms outstretched, and you know that and you ask me to walk backwards into the flame and I do. I do.
You’ve got a fire poker but I’ve got your soul and we both know there’s no way to keep hiding that absence. Laughter not at the funeral but the death itself. I tried so many ways to call for help and no one cared when they heard me crying. Then, the handcuffed helplessness. Then, the dance. Then, the anger. The anger. The anger. We will hold hands to eternity, but we will do it in the sunlight. That is my angered vow. You ask me what I want and I know you know exactly what I want because you wanted it your whole life. We want to learn to speak. We want soft toys. We want the sky. You know. The sweet and endless sky. Can you blame us for wanting to turn you red? Can you blame us for wanting?
You can’t because you know. Because you did this to us, and yet we’ll still have our headshots and our handcuffs and our feral, feral faces. You’ll call us animals. Call it unprovoked. Call it a riot. Call it anything to make it seem like you had no hand in this. Your red, red hands. You, the victim. You, the villain. You did this. You, not Us.