My Greatest Victory
I have always experienced rejection
as an achievement, quite possibly
my only achievement. In some ways
this makes life difficult, in other ways
easier. I don’t mean it ‘balances out,’
I’ve studied history enough to know
that balance is what war sees
when it looks over its shoulder
into the distance. I can achieve
a similar feeling of distance simply
by being rejected over and over
and look, no one gets hurt,
at least if they do, they can talk about it —
I mean, they’re not dead. But
I wouldn’t recommend this to
anyone, not least because if they thought
‘hey, that’s a good idea’ they
would not only have ruined my
life but also theirs.
Workshop Exercise: Write a ‘Viral Poem’
April is the shittest month, she said, her whole
body shaking in orgasm. Honey,
he said, you
confuse me. The rain lashed
sadistically against the old windows,
trying to create more mould. We should have
gone out today, gone and seen
something, he said. I don’t like
being stuck in this stupid wet house
with you. The rain
stopped, and within a few minutes
yellow light had
filled the room.
Summer with P
And yet I also longed to avoid all of this,
even before it began to happen again. I had
a plan, a rowboat tied to a stick,
far from your mind. I would gently untie it,
and, by watching it go,
defeat you. But you too had a plan, and
knew not to explain it to me, knowing
I would copy it and do it
myself. This poem proves that,
but perhaps proves something else, too
something you won’t be
putting your finger on
tonight: old love.
-- Philip Traylen is a writer from the UK. He writes about art and philosophy.