Breaking Plates

Aaron Lantz

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To live a life, a lie, a feeling of

Falling through concrete and kitchen stoneware 

And never slowing down. Just breaking, dove-

tailing every bad idea I have

Ever had. Can I even start to care?

What if I just stopped? If push came to shove

And I got out and set the car alight

And just kept running until the sun’s fight

Was also spent, would I know myself then?

Would I listen to my eyes and know by

Sight when enough really is enough, when 

It’s safe to go quiet and just shut down?

To live a life, a lie, a running out

Of time, of breath, of never touching ground.

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Aaron’s notes: “‘Breaking Plates’ was one of those pieces that sort of presented itself almost fully formed while washing up the dishes too late at night, during a bout of insomnia. The sort of half awake, hands in the hot water, steam in the eyes haze of going over all your mistakes and life choices while just trying to get the kitchen cleared up so you can get back to sleep (and then repeat the same process the next day!).

 

“The form chosen is a sort of irregular sonnet form, with counted syllables and lines, but allowing for irregularities in beats and rhyme scheme. I hope that the rhythms encourage the reader to read ‘Breaking Plates’ first very quickly as a block, and then a second time more slowly, one line at a time.“​​​​​

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Aaron Lantz is a writer from the American Midwest, now living in London. His work has previously appeared in Peacock Journal and Pacifism21.

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