She Often Spoke

she often spoke of suicide, wordlessly.
did I see scarred wrists or imagine them?
of whose suicide did she speak?
her eyes, I saw them, told a kind of truth
apart from what I heard-
for that reason alone, I could forgive her.

are thoughts made of chemicals in the brain,
the synapse of neurons, electric sparks?
flash, they appear, another moment gone.
a memory took place and this I heard.

she often spoke, or did she speak, of suicide.
who spoke? who heard?
did I know or did I imagine knowing?
for that reason alone, I could forgive her.

poem by Jesse Weiner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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