Poetry

Do You Believe Me Now?

You said ‘I love you’
and it sounded like a vague promise to stay
no matter how bad things get.
But how could that have been true
when you didn’t know just how bad things could get?

You found me sobbing and bleeding
on the bathroom floor from wounds
both hidden and clearly visible.
I’m sure you thought ‘This is the worst of it.’
Oh, how wrong you were.

Tell me, did you regret making that promise?
When the light left my eyes
and I became someone you didn’t recognize?
When the girl you loved became
a broken shell
and it was impossible not to get cut
on her edges?
When you got caught
in the crossfire of
the war I waged against myself?
Did you regret becoming a casualty?

They say ‘When people tell you who they are,
believe them.’
But when I told you I was a time bomb,
counting down the seconds until disaster,
you tried to convince me
I was wrong.
Tell me, do you believe me now?

*Originally published on Medium in 2023.

Death Comes to Me Again: A Pantoum

Death comes to me, again
In the form of pale skin and wooden caskets.
What comes to me then:
A million sympathy gift baskets.

In the form of pale skin and wooden caskets,
An expiration of life is concluded with
A million sympathy gift baskets
And a silver scythe.

An expiration of life is concluded with
Loved ones in wooden boxes,
A silver scythe,
And empty tissue boxes.

Loved ones in wooden boxes,
Forced Amens,
And empty tissue boxes.
Death comes to me, again.

*Originally published on Medium in 2023.

Genealogy: After Betsy Sholl

One of my grandparents was a raging wild fire, the other a hurricane.
One was a shape-shifter, the other a statue.

In the night, I’d wake to yelling and the faint smell of cigarette smoke.
The scars on my wrist are the ones for calamity.

One of my grandparents was a rose bush, the other a thorn tangled in the vines.
One of my grandparents I took care of, and the other I became.

In the revolving door of my becoming, one applauded and one criticized.
Thus, my troubled birth, my endless fugue.

One was animate, the other an apparition.
Oh, how they amused each other.

I was ashamed of my genetics, embarrassed I couldn’t change them.
I was a child screaming into the abyss for some semblance of normalcy.

*Originally published on Medium in 2023.