Empire Hands
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Transcript of Empire Hands
Empire Hands
Lucas McEuen
Index
Epigraph- Mahatma Gandhi Comparison: I understand the pull One Dominate Impression: Quietus Two Catalog: keep this to myself Three Exegesis: Hiding Four Exegesis Painting: Rembrandt, Philosopher in Meditation Five Something new: So Striking Six
“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”
Mahatma Gandhi
I understand the pull
Maria’s eyes flicker around and capture glances of everyone in the room. They all
hold drinks and among the sea of glass is the sound of hissing, like the misty film of
waves against the rocks. Drunken attendees with heavy hands set glasses down too
forcefully. Many shatter; others break off small pieces. The remaining glass form shapes
like mountains with sharp, pointy tops. Fingers do not dare to climb them.
A woman stands with her back to Maria and talks shrilly, like cutting glass, to a
man in a steam pressed suit. He stands, pinching the fabric of his pants, looking intently
into the woman’s eyes. Her words float through the air and rest themselves on his
shoulders. He tries to acknowledge them but cannot. They are foxes, elusive and hard to
grasp. He smiles and nods; feigning as best as he can that he is interested. The woman
seems not to mind. Her voice trails off. She looks down into her drink; he scuffs his foot
against the ground, and, smiling, they part ways. Turning, she bumps into Maria. The
wheat colored brandy in the glass rocks out over the edge, running down the side, spilling
onto the floor. The woman looks to Maria and walks on, not uttering a word.
Voices grow louder and everyone forms together watching the steam pressed suit
take the empty stage near the front. Maria cannot concentrate. The voices collide, sand in
the flame, melting thick with a hiss and pop. Her eyes dart around but don’t catch
anyone’s. She positions her hands, taking one inside the other, and begins picking her
way through the crowd, avoiding as many shoulders as she can. Once passed them all,
she breathes in.
Quietus
The light fell outward from the center of the ceiling, and the walls became washed
in a dull, dingy yellow as the casing around the light was clear and did not shade the bulb.
It made everything look sick or unclean, no matter the room’s upkeep.
He looked into the mirror that hung on the wall. He was looking around
himself at the furniture scattered about the room. There wasn’t much. His mind wouldn’t
let his eyes overlook the dust on the mirror that showed in the light. The bed stood
partially unmade and he stared at the made side. The sheets were perfectly settled except
for one rise that separated the plain of the made side from the jagged ripples of the
unmade side. He smiled at himself in the mirror and walked out of the room, leaving the
light on. The light remained on and the wash became dimmer throughout the day as it
flickered to stay alive.
As he left the apartment the door shut with an explosive sound that darted through
every room. He did not flinch, and continued on as if it didn’t happen. A silence fell once
the sound absorbed into the carpet. No one was there to witness. It was the quiet that
makes everything seem loud. The sounds always rose after he left.
When he came home he let the door swing open and hit the wall, sound echoing
through the house again. He waited to hear a sound.
He walked into the bedroom. The unmade side still sat. The made side still sat.
Everything was gray, as the light had given up. He shrugged, stood at the end of the bed,
jerked at the side of the sheets, pulling them straight. The ripple fell uniform.
Keep this to myself Dog’s bark; headlights Street signs no longer hold a message one night asleep another night: feet wear down pavement. Windows rattle; the door shuts Streetlights etch me across the cars flick of the wrist 2 A.M. start-up “I never wanted you to leave.” eyes grow heavier, “But you stayed, and I saw what it did.” your pout flashes of deep purple nail polish, you trace the lines of your mouth gritting teeth grinning smile You always turn away I had to leave we slowly lose grip polish scratches off horizon lines break hands fall away Then 2 A.M. fades then the headlights dim then the dogs stop.
Hiding Think; don’t think. Too much time spent doing nothing. Only sleep fixes just enough. A hand away, reaching, telling you: “You will never know patience, nor glee.” An end always finds you, somewhere, somehow, someone. Why won’t you wait? Sit at that Goddamned fork, roam only enough to make it out alive. Don’t be nothing. Young and in the way, lost to those greatly received Not so gravely damaged. Fracture behind wood; Find god’s teeth littering grass, stand so long indents break down green Mountains. No words, but standing over soles fading, meshing, colliding green. Standing too long. Leaving: They can stay so long, listening and holding. Slipping through their fingers An iron window, a solid estate. Lingering in the ground so long as to stay forever kneeling.
Never enough to hold oneself up. It was too early I lost my shine, I’ll get by.
Rembrandt- Philosopher in Meditation
So Striking Through trees, stepping, cratering, plunging feet deep into leaves and grass. Never falling into anything you don’t want to. Scrapes and bruises covered with blue Band-‐Aids, exhaled breathes, and anti bacterial mists. Never ending pink skies emblazoned t-‐shirts: Luck never dies. The supper bell only rings twice followed by lightning bugs and cricket chirps. All to let you know you still exist. Miss this as you age. nothing will last, or stay the same. Always expanding, growing with you You will dream it You will live it, and never forget Grace Falls. Not aging well, and memories falter, slip. You only have so much time. You’re asked, “What will you do?” At this life you don’t have an answer. Contemplate if one exists, A dream or cooked up imagination. The men who set these boundaries will never see anything in your same light To some Grace is atmosphere. To others, location.