Author: Mattie Grace Levy

I'm a black woman, a classically trained oboist, a self-taught composer, and an introspective poet trying to comprehend my thoughts.

My stomach is empty

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But I can’t eat

I’m sitting on a couch 

The same couch where one message from you once caused my hands to shake has me shaking again

The same couch where I finished my musical

Where I kissed a mistake 

Wrote emails and gossiped and found crumbs 

My stomach is empty 

But I can’t eat 

“Once I’m done with people they’re gone” 

You’re gone but your name has never come up more

I’m thinking of you hoping to rewrite your name into acceptance 

Or suppressing every thought to forget your presence 

Maybe if I get rid of all your stuff I’ll feel full 

if I go to Blue Llama if I go to Pinball Pete’s maybe I’ll be comfortable in chaos 

My stomach is empty but I cannot eat 

I can’t watch anything I’ve never seen 

I cry when I can’t ge a refund for a cake at coldstone

I sleep with my back aching under LED lights at christmas time

…

When the pit passes 

I find a few moments where I’m freed

My stomach is empty and I see through the haze

I finally eat 

Before one message sets me off again

Till when will we be tender

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You tell me in too little words that our time is limited 

Your eyes staring straight ahead while stroking my arm

To what end will I time out 

Till you lose me while talking about the now 

In limited dim lit doom who am I to assume

That you would want to whether waning weather with me

Am I so semi permanent 

Is it so easy to slip away 

Still I find myself slipping to sleep

Slumped against some warmth 

Waiting while wanting

Wilting when knowing

Blue

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I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t understand why an Ab pedal is not included in the diminished triad

Someone can’t make opening night on January 25th

And the workshop attendance numbers need to be compiled

I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t seem to write my mother’s emotions fast enough

I can’t find the right rhythm in my song

I can’t stop long enough to talk

I want to paint my nails midnight blue

But I can’t stop watching gilmore girls

And then falling asleep

Waking up with the light on at 4:00am

Sleeping an hour and then starting again

The Angel of Music sings songs when I’m stressed

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“I should tell you I’m disaster”

Clicking my heals down brick and papered walls

We should sing when we want to

In darkness in between doors they look at me blankly when I tell jokes 

“Stinging and older asleep on pins” 

Behind closed windowed doors

You ask me why I need to keep cranking

In your office we take deep breaths and my page is empty

“I’d forgotten how to smile until your candle burned my skin” 

Sitting in gray cars where overcast skies separate brown trees

I imagine getting T-boned 

And a C ping shocks me out of the “Bewlay Brothers” 

“Trusting desire starting to learn”

Over brown tables and blue darkness in a daylight saved morning

Orpheus is in the underworld their singing their praises, 

I can barely get them to answer my phrases

“Walking through fire (with) a burn”

“Who knows Here goes”