Wade in Grief and Palm Creases: Alissa Babaeva

April 21, 2020, Kate Belew With Alissa Babaeva (Richmond, Virginia)

A different kind of waiting not 

stopping when not walking and

an inner tube of thoughts. I wish 

we were on water, where

things move naturally, unlike now 

with wind conditioned. I miss

what we could call current, a soft

stretch of flow to speed. Let out 

whatever howl you've been holding 

and unfurl your self in chambers. 

A different kind of water, this

drift lulling us to sleep. We must

keep going, we must not be afraid of 

horizons our minds form. See out

past whatever map you've created then

breathe in and look back again. Has it

changed you? Or made you different?

Wade in grief and palm creases. Read

those lines, a palmist of sorts. 

I've started to travel through my meridians, they

ask me with their own many hands, how 

to hold enough of me. I'll tell them we're light, we

we're whatever joy is made out of, I'm sure of it

so let's get going to the pulse

listen, you can trust me, I'm sure of it.