John Wick Is So Tired by Kyra Wilder

I want to be sad but with a cut six-pack and to drink thimblefuls of espresso out of impeccable cups

John Wick Is So Tired

by Kyra Wilder¹

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John Wick is so tired, but he can still throw a hatchet and hit a guy dead in the face
he can just split other people open with anything, with a pencil
because he knows what it’s like
because he’s tired and loves dogs and he’s cracked right open too and
I want to tell you to
look at his feet when he runs
the way they turn so delicately in
the way they’re listing slightly, his black shoes
the heels of them
their heartbreaking glissade hush-hushing across the hotel tiles
just look at the way he’s slipping
even before he soaks the floor with other people’s blood
I want to do push-ups like John Wick does in the morning
so I won’t just be sad but sad and also ripped, like
sad with muscles that stand out all obvious in desolate relief
sad where it looks like I eat clean and have expensive taste
I want to be sad but with a cut six-pack and
to drink thimblefuls of espresso out of impeccable cups and
I want to tell you to wait and be here and look
at me and also at the way John Wick is leaning
into those people that he’s stabbing
how he gets so close to them and just holds them for a second
how he’s so tired but he knows he has to let them go
and I wish you would be here and
we could watch John Wick together
and we could put our ruthless arms around each other and if we looked
out the window it would be all California
and I would lean in close and tell you that John Wick kills women like
he’s read feminist theory
which is to say I think he’s familiar with the philosophy of care and
you would laugh and
wait, look now, John Wick is riding
that black horse like he knows just what grief is
like he knows sometimes it’s killing and killing and
sometimes it’s just slipping in your shoes and
I want you to be here and
wait, now the camera’s right on him, just all cool colors and diaphanous mood and
it looks like his hand hurts like his knuckles are a little swollen but
he’s not saying it and
I want to know what you think
of all that blue light

1. first appeared in The Paris Review, issue 243, Spring 2023