top of page

/chase ferree

Try A Little

People won’t shut up about tenderness (myself included). But anytime I find a way to try & be in this world, I’m afraid of the complications.

The most attentive lover can make a mess of another’s life. The gentle hands that grip just above the newborn’s shoulders, splayed

fingers & careful palms–they too can hold violence. & that tone of comfort spoken to ease & relieve, the one that offers advice, its volume

never in overdrive–such a tone can poison. No matter how soft, it can catalyze an unshareable ache. Even blackberries must take a whole barrel

of crude to get to our mouths, must require delicacy to be plucked from low bushes spread for acres across an inland green. Some of them burst, no matter the care

involved. On the beach, the tide hurls wood long dead & throws glass on the sand–a comment on the world through juxtaposition. The pigeons sound like doves

because they are doves. The television sounds like war. The blackberries, when they fall, leave stains– their tender membranes unable to handle even the dirt.

Chase Ferree (he/him) is a teacher in Seattle. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Emerge Literary Journal, Peripheries Journal, Perhappened, High Shelf Press, and elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter @freechasetoday.

2 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


  • Black Facebook Icon
  • Black Twitter Icon
  • Black Instagram Icon
bottom of page