in the nightI go to throw up, a bodyturned inside out,the sweet chemical taste,wanting your voice in my ear,my ribs shuddering, my breathunfolding, a bird without homeas if I could heave the guilty restraintfrom my body, into the coldwhere you wait with sun-dark hair,a hand to hold in my own.
how to save a lifeIn our lonely dream world I am still smoking that samecigarette, boarding a ship,waiting for the land-locked phone to ring because I forgotto laugh today,there's no secrets here, we just keep talkingabout the past,the white sheet sails of a shipbearing down on the ancient blue sea.
the new yearshe meant to ask for self-control or a diet that worked ora place in the world meant just for her,she meant to ask but the words wouldn'tfree themselves from her chest,reanimated she meant to change into someoneshe couldn't be,the fumbling answers to questions she prayedshe would never be asked,the blur of the words when she removed her glasses,carefully, placing them on the table andclosing her eyes.
a fairy taleOnce upon a time there was a girl who did not want to be a princess. She longed for attention in a world where strength and independence were valued above all. Talking was not. The queen was sad all the time and the princess who did not want to be a princess slept outside the queen's chamber on the cold floor. Surely if she slept on the floor, quiet and perfect, the queen would see how much she was loved and needed and would come out to play. But days went by without a sound from the room and the princess abandoned the queen for the young prince who loved her without condition. She learned to always say, "I'm happy!" but never "I love you" which made the queen sad. And when the queen was sad the king was angry. He never entered the queen's room, but stormed around the castle looking for a place to vent his anger and the prince and princess hid under tents in the quiet dark and did not speak even to
the villageI am raising a 2 year old, I am raising a childon medications and checking for all the exits,I am raising us up on what I know which is we are allin immediate danger orbeing damaged, I am raising a girl onfear and the taste of metal on the back of your tongue,it takes a village and I play all the parts, today I amyour keeper, your arrow-fletcher, your philosopher,today I am yourmother.
the phone callIf you answered your phone I might call andtell you about today and yesterday andthe tomorrow I'd really like to have, if you calledI might listen to you talk about what's been livingin your head. If the phone rang I might cry, youlistening to the sound of my tears falling like rainon a summer's night, it is cold here and I never callanymore.