Jo Rigg
Resistance
We talk by appointment; a short preamble
and then at 3.06 I’m asked to show my soul.
But how did it feel?
I don’t know.
What about in your body?
I stare at the floor.
I hope it looks like I’m thinking.
Enumerating whether there’s a knot
somewhere, a flutter, a shiver.
I don’t know.
Sometimes I don’t even know
if what I’m saying is true.
There’s no weight of evidence.
Even boiling water didn’t leave a scar
and life went obliviously on.
I wonder what time it is.
How soon can I stop pretending
I’m dredging the silt from my system.
Stop wondering what I’d say
to make that girl feel better.
I have no idea.
There’s a tightness in my sternum.
(A bodily feeling!)
I probably should have said
Stop.
Things have happened
that have a sharp edge.
I blunted everything.
You talk about the window of tolerance —
mate, I can tolerate anything.
Jo Rigg is a web developer, writer, runner and general dabbler based in York. Her work has recently appeared, or is forthcoming, in And Other Poems, Frazzled Lit, and the National Flash Fiction Day Anthology. She posts infrequently on BlueSky: @jorigg.bsky.social.
