Erica
calls me a couple of days after Thanksgiving.
We talk for a while about work and debts and boyfriends. I thought I knew everything but now I realize
I know almost as close to nothing as you can get without having fallen here on
accident from another planet.
Thursday, 27 October 2016
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.
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