Cold Room | Belinda Munyeza
We were in the gold room where
everyone finally gets what they want
— Richard Siken
The more romantic tale would be the one where I forgive you
But it is my justice begun — my
tear; frozen
in the corner of my eye before it
rolls — that says the ways you have undone me, misdone me and done
me heartless cruel and cold are indelible.
I once tried, one by one
to erase the forests scribbled
on the gallery walls but
My heart. Memory is not a trail; it is quicksand on the cold marble floor
We think we know — if you don’t move
you will not sink. You should not sink, I think. I sink. The feel of it.
Sometimes I feel
the inner gulping wave of relapse, of love, to leave.
.
How do you proceed and come out
from the remembering that will not
stop devouring you, without hurting yourself?
We think we know all the ways we — recklessly — undid each other.
But here, on the wall, this is drawn:
The time we braided each other’s insides into knots;
Indelible.
On the wall;
The time we scraped each other’s open hearts
against our metal-rail fingers; we called it touch.
On the wall, this is framed:
In the arid love-dry secret
we called togetherness I remember
you said to me that it’s bloody annoying
how emotional I get but at least
you’ll receive beautiful poetry from it.
I am sorry that this is about you.
But this is the only door I have left, to leave it and you.
My justice begun.
In a dying world,
I can’t forgive myself.
Relapse. My memory. Across all the seasons.
I have been wishing for us
to be in a shimmering place but I didn’t get
what I want. I wanted your love. You wanted
to swallow me. The feel of it.
It is the beginning of winter and it has been cold.
Belinda Munyeza is a Zimbabwean poet based in Navarra, Spain. Her poem "Independence Song" was featured on VS the podcast in May of 2020. Her poetry has also appeared in Pigeonholes. Belinda is currently working on her first collection of poems. She tweets @MdnightIsAplace.