Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Addiction

I left you                                                                    
                        I did
that was me who limped behind
who whimpered and begged as
fear threatened me blind

            but I left you
                        yes, I did

Your voice now I must ignore
oh, and it sears and it soars, and it
roars with the ferocity of a
jungle cat

            because I left you back there
            with the imploring stare
            on your face

                        yes, I did

Old truths fill the
black hole where
I buried the leaking need
for you
I know all about incurable wounds

            So much and for so many weepy and
            lonely afternoons
            I meant to leave you
            for so much, my friend
                        and I did

It cost me the destruction of an atomic rage
poisoned the air with its smoke-orange memories
maybe it will melt my blistering heart
maybe it will leave me to freeze in the
drift of its nuclear winter
when the death that crouches in wait for me
crouches close for you, too

            forgive me for pulling this scratchy scarf
            over my eyes  
            forgive me, love, because I was made to leave you

and I did


The Weight of the World


It was a difficult, silent drive back to my mom’s.  When I pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition we both just sat there, until Michael said, “I’m sorry you feel I let you down.  But the important thing is that now you know what you’re dealing with.  You can’t go back to him.”

“It’s not that simple.  You aren’t even sure about what happened with Cheryl,” I retorted.  “And if he’d treated her that badly, she would have wanted the divorce, not fought it tooth and nail.”

“The psychology of domestic abuse is a strange beast.  Otherwise why would you even consider staying with him?”

“It wasn’t domestic abuse.”

“He broke your arm.  He made you quit law school.  He doesn’t let you have any money, and you can do almost nothing without his approval,” Michael brutally reminded me.  “If that isn’t domestic abuse, I don’t know what is.”

“Well, you might feel that way, but I don't.  I think I owe him another chance," I said, and opened the car door.  This conversation was over.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016

Looking in



This is not how I meant it to be.
This was not who I meant to become.
These are not the memories I
expected to replay in my
head 
as I remembered who
I once had been.



Triumph


In the red straw network there is:

*no hope
*no telling
*no entrance
*no exit
*no talking
*no timeline
*no travelling
*no sharing
*no smoking
*no milk with cereal

Thank you for respecting the rules.  Carry on with your business.

But your legs get a little bit heavier.  And the strings get a little bit longer.  And the knots feel a little bit tighter.  And the joke gets a little bit harder to laugh at.

A harsh beautiful place, this memory horizon.  If you squint your eyes you can see the moon.

There isn’t much I can see anymore. 

I am losing.  You don’t just suddenly stop losing.  You think about why you’re losing, you despair that you are losing, you blame the universe for losing, you write self-pitying poems about losing, you come up with reasons why losing is not really losing, you give yourself pep talks about losing, you brainstorm how to stop losing, you develop five-point plans to halt the losing, you wonder if we are all really losing, you become heavy and tired with losing, you think maybe if I get a haircut I won’t keep losing, and then you find that after all of this you are still losing.  And not only are you still losing, but you are now losing by so much that winning becomes unrealistic, so you start coming up with easier goals, like “accepting,” or “taking small steps” or “adapting.”  But in the end you will just be losing again.


Monday, 24 October 2016

Blinded


my hand trailing listless in your wake              
no real difference between a choice and a mistake
the stars led me everywhere but gone

if I could I would ask you please     
I would shout it to your stones and rivers and trees

what were we doing here
how could we have been so wrong?


Sunday, 23 October 2016

Isolation

I could hear the three of them talking in the kitchen.  His sardonic voice matched his pictures, which did nothing to bolster my nerves.  But there was no avoiding it.  After taking a deep breath I forced myself to crutch into the lion's den.

The three of them were seated at the kitchen table, drinking coffee; when they saw me their conversation came to an abrupt end.  Hawk beamed, and David smiled, but Jesse just stared at me as if I'd sprouted wings and a horn on my forehead.  “Here she is,” Hawk said, like he always did.  “Come join us.”

I made my way over to the table.  David pulled out a chair for me, directly across from Jesse.  “Megan, this is Jesse,” he said.  “Jesse, Megan.”

“Hello, Megan,” Jesse said, but he was frowning.  Unsure of what that meant, I produced only an indecipherable gurgle in return.  “She’s a shy girl,” Hawk told Jesse with a chuckle.  “We haven’t coaxed more than a few words out of her yet, but we’re working on it.”

Still frowning, Jesse replied, “Maybe she just can’t get a word in edgewise.”

“Very funny,” Hawk returned.  “But, go ahead—see if you can do better.”

“I’m sure I can’t.”

“Well, this conversation won’t help,” David put in, and turned toward me.  “Would you like some breakfast?” 

I shook my head. 

“I’ll make you some tea,” Hawk said.  As David kept an eye on his elderly father, now filling up the kettle, he remarked to me, “It’s not easy for a female to break into a household of males.  All we can do is hope that Jesse will find himself a wife and give you a sister-in-law for company.”

Jesse rolled his eyes.  Alarmed for some reason, I blurted out, “I’m sure I’ll be back in Madison soon.”

David went very straight.  Hawk, too, stopped what he was doing.  But it was Jesse who said, “Why would you want to do that?”

“I have to finish school.”

“You can do that here,” David protested.  “That’s right,” Hawk said, “our university is excellent.  Jesse teaches there sometimes.  With your grades I’m sure you’d have no problems getting in.”

“Of course not,” Jesse said.  “You can’t go back to Madison by yourself.  The weather there is terrible—it would be impossible for you to get around in winter.  And you wouldn’t have anyone to help you in case of emergency.”

“There are other disabled people there,” I argued, choking on the word ‘disabled.’  “I could take the bus.  And if I were in trouble, my friends would help me.”

“Those friends will not be reliable,” Jesse retorted.  “You need people around who you can count on 24/7.  Someone you met in class isn’t going to fill that role.  Anyway, I’ve been to Madison, and that campus is enormous, not to mention hilly.  A bus won’t be able to bring you door to door to most of the buildings.  I understand it must be frustrating to have to start over somewhere else, but most of your credits will probably transfer.  Your life has changed—you need to change with it.”

I lowered my eyes, afraid that any moment I might start screaming or crying or both.  Your life has changed.  He made this pronouncement so matter-of-factly, but I was the one living it, not him.  Anyway, just because he was my much older biological brother didn’t give him the right to lecture me.  “I want to go back and finish my degree,” I said.  “I’ll be fine.”

My pronouncement was met with total silence.  Amazing how these three men I hadn’t even known a year ago felt  they had the right to make my decisions for me.  “Well, that’s nothing we have to worry about now,” David finally said.  “Let’s just concentrate on your physical therapy for the time being.”

“Excellent idea,” Hawk agreed.  I thought I heard Jesse snort, but I couldn’t be sure.  All I did know was that I had just been patronized in the worst way possible.


Saturday, 22 October 2016

Saturday morning


And in your heart and in your heart,
listen...
I keep everything in the graying sky as I
wait, locked outside --
the deep freeze will be quick.
But I don't mind.
To be warm is a lie I lost
the reason to tell.