Tess Congo

Modern Asylums

A friend can’t keep her shoelaces or the strings
of her hoodie. When we visit, we place our belongings
into lockers in exchange for miniature keys.

I bring her a book which is not (yet) ruled a danger.
We, who have also tried to throw ourselves
into different orbits—we reach for her, dare

to hold her tight. We search the shivering
East River from her window as if the mirrored
fragility will soothe our friend’s despair.

It’s hard to see a future where everyone’s alright.
Years later, at an art show I wonder why
when viewing a looped film of a leaf clinging

to a branch on a windy day, I see a struggle.
Who’s to say the leaf isn’t dancing with the wind
or holding on in ecstasy? After three years,

I tell my therapist I’m ready to give in
completely to myself and—embrace the chaos.
He tells me I have it wrong, again.

Tess Congo: Originally born in New Hampshire, I’ve lived in various cities including Amsterdam, Boston, Charlotte, New Orleans, and New York City. I have a deep love for pigeons, literature, and fashion. Freud writes that all dreams are about desire, and I think desire is at the forefront of my poetry, too—desire to change the past, apologize for it, return to it, escape it, or accept it. The pleasure of poetry is the accessibility of those options. In the world we live in, not everything is possible, but on the page, we can reclaim, make amendments, and find solace in the power of those choices. Online: TessCongo.com, Instagram @TessCongo.