After You Slept Over & The Power Went Out & You Explained to Me The Secondary Nature of Electricity Before Completely Disappearing Forever

I find it hard to believe there’s a yellowness beneath it all.

The black-esque room & one hand tucked into
            the lip of your elastic waistband.

I’ll still kick you
            out in the morning.

Someone says, a curse
            of lowering standards.

I say blessings.

Here’s the one picture of you balancing a metal pole beside Lake Merrit, trying to make
            the best of what you’ve been given.

Here’s the middle part of the essay.

I’ll just go ahead and leave the meaningful stuff
            to someone other than me.

& so but I do find I am constantly
            someone other than me.

& so but I do concur at least with almost full certainty that I am someone other than
            that me—

That me who was never drawn into
            the blue movement of your breath.

Who never stuck one finger into the wind which carries it, trying
            to find where it was going or taking me.

Those old aphorisms and the town I never left saying:

I’ve learned well enough to leave just enough to grow.

—ok. I’m being serious now.

Here’s the real middle part of the essay.

It’s erupting.

Jarrett Moseley is a bisexual poet whose work has been published or is upcoming in Homology Lit, Sanskrit Literary-Arts Magazine, and Mineral Lit Mag. He is the Editor in Chief at Non.Plus Lit, and a member of the University of Miami's 2022 Creative Writing MFA cohort. In his spare times he enjoys walking dogs, reading weird poetry, and contemplating the breakdown of society.