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  • Nocturne with Choking in Calloway Gardens
  • William Fargason (bio)

The quickest way to deathis choking    this is my fearnot death but the chokingI have felt recently like something'sstuck in my throat    the moon perhapsa cloud passing    an iris dilatedThe garden is quiet this timeof night    No water bubblingin the fountain    no fountainjust a gravel path I followEach azalea blossom bud I pluckand squeeze in my palmfeels like feeling in control of somethingfor once    even if nature alwayshas the final say    even if each clasppulls apart so easily    the petalssheathed in green    Each one I picksays there's a whole acre morewaiting    My grandmother onceturned red then blue    a pieceof meat lodged in her throat    My throatis lined with rings like a cat'sI often seize up over simple thingsbread or kudzu    Now at the dinner tableI want to say    Excuse me I need to leavefor I have already swallowed enoughdarkness enough enough    Man cannotlive on    Man cannot liveon alone    There is not a differencein a root in my vein or one in my headthe branch ends up in the same placeLittle fist of daisies    how smallyour petals    you will die soonwith no root left to hold you [End Page 12] The past    is but the past is    but the dirtunder my fingernails    I have duga trench around myself    Now I amprotected three feet in alldirections    but also stuck in placeI have forgotten the tasteof blackberries or okra    stained tongueor salt    the smaller thingsI never had a choiceof what I ate    I ate it anywaya good child is silent    a good childdoesn't sing    there is pine sapon my palms    the garden is fulltoo full    even without me    Hope isa burden I gave up long agoI no longer wait for springor much of anything    no hot waterboiling for tea    no phone callno hand on my hand to remind meI'm not walking alone    My head iscrumbling in on itself    If death is actuallysleep then I have been so very tiredfor so very long    twenty yearsto be exact    I am afraid I wantto eat every flower in the gardenuntil I can't breathe anythingbut the sweetness    My therapistis convinced I'm not a threatto myself    that makes one of us [End Page 13]

William Fargason

William Fargason is a PhD candidate in poetry at Florida State University, where he received a Kingsbury Fellowship for 2018–19. His poems have recently appeared in the Threepenny Review, Narrative, Pleiades, Poetry Northwest, Washington Square Review, and elsewhere.

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