revisiting my ruins
road decrepit & unpromising
historically abandoned, blocked
this is not a metaphor to color
my impending breakdown

this is a dilapidated trailer plunked sideways in a road
this is a seventeen year old girl. a twenty-five year old child.
as mad as hell as mad as the woman who littered her with intensity on the twenty-first day of june
who forced her to push
through skin & cellophane & red, red walls &

scream on command

so that she would always remember
the sound of her own voice.

daily, i compose letters
to the boy girl man uncle woman
who triggered this who left for
the blue of the beach the blue of an
eye the blueness of waking up
each morning joyful in
the absence of question.

i say how does it feel? how does it make you feel?
do you feel?

do you want a ribbon? a lollipop?
world's fastest get-a-way, get well
get wherever the fuck you can
banner
to hang
on your new, white porch rails?

do you want 17 years back? that
one second back?
that week
back?
that moment
of waking up
three in one
bed
drowning in
heartbreak
back?

i wanted the story of a woman
from birth till 32 wrapped around
my exterior so thick & loving that i
become susceptible to suffocation. cannot
move without remembering the strawberry
blonde the thin tight lips the construction paper
birthdays the navy suits the pumpkins mirrors
camel cigarettes avon lipstick flannel nightgown
thin frame musk perfume maybelline mascara bluest
eyes reading glasses square frames paints ceramic eggs
christmas paper tinfoil hearts tiger lilies african violets the pink
pink rose wet tissue birthday cakes blackberry jam her hands love the