"The Exercise of Forgiving" by Felicia Zamora

[View this email on a browser]( [Forward to a friend]( [facebook-icon]( [tumblr-icon]( [twitter-icon]( January 3, 2019 [The Exercise of Forgiving]( [Felicia Zamora]( Six months ago, the measuring of whiskey left in the jug, urine on the mattress, couch cushions, the crotch of pants in wear. You watch how breath lifts a chest, how a person breathes— sick hobbies of when we must. You watch how you become illiterate at counting. Six or seven broken breathalyzers; a joke formulates in your throat & you choke back your windpipe as punchline. How many sobs in parking lots before sun lugged above horizon? The heart hammers all too familiar songs behind your ribs & these notes cut away at you. You read online how television, internet, starving children in numbers greater than three, polar bears, rain forests, light from an off direction all desensitize the human brain’s ability to empathize. You wonder how you chew the word panic in your jaws, let meaning burrow into molars seep in crevasses between root & bone. How rot tends to the insides. You wonder now with the inpatient tags, the cafeteria visits, the doctors, the psychiatrists, the when do you get to come homes, the hesitation of our bodies sharing space again, the words I have not drank today & your brain in flinch, how you excavate organs for what’s left, for salvage. [Like this on Facebook]( [Share via Twitter]( Copyright © 2019 Felicia Zamora. Used with permission of the author. [Zamora reads "The Exercise of Forgiving."]( About This Poem “For the past few years, someone I love has been struggling with clinical depression and alcoholism, a journey that has reshaped both our understandings of ourselves as humans and the space we inhabit with each other. These diseases can make people raw, rub you down to only nerve endings, and make you question everything you know. I naively thought I understood empathy and forgiveness before, but now I’m learning how to regenerate, pay attention, listen, and love boldly, and how sometimes we must brave the wound’s exposure to allow for any real healing to begin.” —Felicia Zamora [Felicia Zamora]( Felicia Zamora is the author of three poetry collections, including, most recently, Instrument of Gaps (Slope Editions, 2018) and & in Open, Marvel (Parlor Press, 2018). She teaches creative writing online for Colorado State University and is the education programs manager for the Virginia G. Piper Center for Creative Writing at Arizona State University. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona. [Instrument of Gaps]( Poetry by Zamora [Instrument of Gaps]( (Slope Editions, 2018) from "Introductions" by Chelsey Minnis [read-more]( "Friend Shift" by Leslie Williams [read-more]( "40 Ounce" by Marcus Jackson [read-more]( January Guest Editor: TC Tolbert Thanks to [TC Tolbert](, author of Gephyromania (Ahsahta Press, 2014), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month’s weekdays. Read a [Q&A with Tolbert]( about their curating approach this month and find out more about our [guest editors for the year](. [make a one-time donation]( [make a monthly donation]( [Small-Blue-RGB-poets.org-Logo]( Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit [Poets.org](. You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click [here](. © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038 From Our Sponsors [Advertisement](