Read 'Worthlessness'

By A History of Kindness - Kirstie McKinnon | Posted: Tuesday Dec 16, 2025

By Kirstie McKinnon

Worthlessness - by Kirstie McKinnon - A History of Kindness

Worthlessness comes to me as a quiet white shape

rounded, elongated like a ghost

it has no arms no legs, a tail like a seal

without a flipper line to delineate an edge.

 

No ears, no eyes, just a small mouth

it cannot open, except to smile a little

it hovers in gentle levitation near me

Worthlessness is nearly as tall as I am.

 

I ask Worthlessness a question: What do you need?

It doesn’t speak, but draws closer

to rest its head on my shoulder.

In response, I put my arms around the shape.

 

I will carry you. I say.

It sighs, it has been lonely.

I carry Worthlessness with me to the sea

we paddle out into chop and tip and slap.

 

A sealion cruises past us, she sweeps and coils

under our board, we are not afraid

the sealion is grey and scarred, sleek and fast

Did you see that? I ask Worthlessness.

 

Worthlessness snuggles closer into

my shoulder, it has been a long time

without warmth, and is not that interested

in the slick speckled fur of sea life.

 

Sunlight spills streamers across silt-laden swell

Worthlessness says, I love you.

Leaf-green seaweed sways in multiple currents.

I will hold you. I say, as the sealion surfs beside us.

 

I take Worthlessness to work

it’s not heavy, and is content to be included.

You made a mistake yesterday. Says my boss.

With Worthlessness in my arms, instead of

 

my ears I can actually hear how

it takes courage for my boss to speak.

With Worthlessness in my arms, not my eyes

I see the mistake is small, and easily mended —

 

then incredibly: that my life does not need to falter

on an error, that I am not terrible, useless,

or bad. I am solid and real as a sun

and I am holding Worthlessness.

 

Worthlessness rests against me and sighs relief

glad to be held while I hold also, the mistake.

It is weary of transmitting I am nothing

all the energy this takes, to keep me safe.

 

I will continue to hold you, I say.

Worthlessness is beginning

to seem like a friend

but that can’t be right?

 

I walk with Worthlessness

for days and days and days

while we cook, while we dance, when we

throw the ball for the dogs.

 

When I wake at night unable to sleep

Worthlessness is there. A friend in the dark?

I hold Worthlessness in the cloak of my arms

it’s peaceful, it slumbers like a worn-out lamb.

 

In the morning in the dune tracks

with the dogs and sunlight sent spinning

along sheaths of marram

Worthlessness says, I need to go now.

 

Worthlessness needs to return to its home

in the stars and to tumble among pale clouds

in the day. I will miss you. I say.

I will always be there, if you need me. It says.

 

It flys. I press a hand to the absence at my shoulder

I will get a tattoo of a star to remember you. I call to

Worthlessness as it soars. Make it a henna one. It

calls back. Observe fade.