Taxonomy of Suspense
In junior high I got in-school suspension
insubordination I think
I’m practiced at approaching the line – toes over – not jumping
just close enough
I sat on a bench in the office and read Dracula
I was alright.
Not undone.
In chemistry a suspension occurs when solid particles are mixed in liquid
a heterogeneous mixture
producing sediment
unlike with unlike
common example is mud
unsettled.
In language we use the word muddy to describe situations that are unclear
obscure
sometimes what we do muddies the water
by force of will
or consequences unintended.
In the chambers of my heart there are spaces
open to be filled
thumping and held
with blood
with warmth
a chamber – bed/dungeon/heart – can only exist with both
walls and space
boundary and possibility
a mixture unmixed
unceasing pulse
until death of course.
In May of this year
I still have broken ribs I don’t talk about much
cracked and unhealed
I go about my lists and charts
forever disrupted
by satellite-borne messages – murmur-heart-murmur
as I exert my will and take action into
worlds and futures
unplanned.
In March we were all overtaken
and futures dissipated
presents stretched out both
boundaries and possible
sleep deprived populace
all caught up
all sourdough
all streaming
in chambers
or exposed to the elements
all things equal they’re not
and we’re all caught up
like suspended
flies struggling through days awaiting
predators call autumn
we think
we don’t know
moths beating against bulbs
and the words on all our caught tongues
uncharted
uncertain
we struggle
we’re caught up
upended.
In our conversations there’s no futures
no present
your presence
obscure-possible-murmurings
you muddy the waters
and I’m always
sweaty and dirty these days
unclean
cut short
there’s a sliver of dirt
under my nails
unfazed
and I don’t know what to do with you
at times nothing to be done
undone
but I sense you are solid and time is just water
we tell stories until we repeat ourselves
we met just in March
but all stories repeat
history lies awake with us every night and we
murmur in our sleep pandemic dreams
I could only write this today
in May
unplanned.
In the plague we are all caught up
on sleep and restless
unkindness met with grace
walls met with possible
futures decimated
unintended consequences for January choices
we are all suspended
you and I suspended
subordinate
to the invisible and microscopic
untouched.
In my 40th year unsettled
but alright
I don’t hesitate to cross fences
marching masked on mesas
in muddy conditions
I spot puddles after rains
I don’t hesitate
to approach
the line between land and water
I throw myself in
I make mud
mixing that which is solid with something that flows
it’s only called a suspension until it settles
becomes something else
it settles.
Monday, May 25, 2020
morning
The Author
Julie Rada is a theatre-maker, educator, and scholar. She has done theatre/performance art for 30 years with a focus on original work and new plays. Julie has worked in the prison system for over seven years, facilitating new works of theatre with incarcerated artists at 10+ facilities.
