at least
in the end,
you were polite
about it.
your hand
rests gently
on the back of my neck,
nails rough and worn
as you trace your way
down the length of my spine,
turning each knob
with a definite crack and caress
until you reach the curves
of my hips
and dig in.
sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry.
i'm sorry.
my name, something other
than a curse, the words
just hovering
between the space of your lips
as one of us, i'm not sure who,
starts to cry.
we are left with
your hand on my heart,
knife on my gullet,
lips pressed softly to my cheek
in prayer
as you apologize once more,
and the moment
where everything pauses
and i brace myself
for the impact.
Friday, 2 May 2014
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
help
i am the scream
hollow
in the back of my throat
white within
the corners of my brain
bruised along the lines
of my bones
snapped
against my tendons
the length of my gullet
the stretch of my lungs
and the sensation
that i no longer know who i am
hollow
in the back of my throat
white within
the corners of my brain
bruised along the lines
of my bones
snapped
against my tendons
the length of my gullet
the stretch of my lungs
and the sensation
that i no longer know who i am
Sunday, 27 April 2014
with you
these days
i am falling
deep
into you
as far as my body will let me go
i would wish to wake up with you
your arms around me
kiss you
run my fingers through your hair
move closer
as close as possible in
the skin of my body
until
this becomes something
i no longer have words for
i just want to be with you
i am falling
deep
into you
as far as my body will let me go
i would wish to wake up with you
your arms around me
kiss you
run my fingers through your hair
move closer
as close as possible in
the skin of my body
until
this becomes something
i no longer have words for
i just want to be with you
Thursday, 24 April 2014
How to Ride a Bike
Right hand, left hand on the handle bars. Stand to attention. Listen. Your father is yelling again, the sound drifting through the screen door. Your brother is playing video games in his room. You cannot hear your mother crying. Wait for the wind on your skin before you step through the frame of the bike.
Balance, hands on the handle bars, bike between your legs. Strong. Capable of things your father says you are not. Stand up on your toes and raise yourself onto the seat. Admire your control over the bike. You are only getting started.
Place your right foot on the pedal. Lean left with your other foot on the ground. Hands straight. Scooch your butt around, maybe back a little until you're comfy. Do not worry about a helmet. It will not be needed where you are going. Straighten up. Look forward at the road. Ignore the house behind you.
Push forward with your right leg on the pedal. Raise your left leg and place it on the other pedal. Push your left leg forward. Move.
Keep pedalling around and around, into the wind, sun bright and sticky on your skin. Down the road. Forward into possibility. Away from that house and all the screaming.
Balance, hands on the handle bars, bike between your legs. Strong. Capable of things your father says you are not. Stand up on your toes and raise yourself onto the seat. Admire your control over the bike. You are only getting started.
Place your right foot on the pedal. Lean left with your other foot on the ground. Hands straight. Scooch your butt around, maybe back a little until you're comfy. Do not worry about a helmet. It will not be needed where you are going. Straighten up. Look forward at the road. Ignore the house behind you.
Push forward with your right leg on the pedal. Raise your left leg and place it on the other pedal. Push your left leg forward. Move.
Keep pedalling around and around, into the wind, sun bright and sticky on your skin. Down the road. Forward into possibility. Away from that house and all the screaming.
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Smile for the Camera
The light is soft. Green leaves on the bushes, small wild roses blooming. They stand side by side in the garden. Their family waits in a ring, cameras clutched in their hands.
She has her arm awkwardly around her sister's waist. Her sister's dress is blue, strapless, and draping to the ground as it brushes against the grass. She is wearing tights and her short black dress. “Get closer.” Their grandmother calls. She waves her hand in emphasis as she looks through the small viewfinder of her ancient camera. They uncomfortably move closer together. That’s good,” says their mother. ‘Now smile like you love each other.”
They smile. Awkwardly. For graduation photos. For their parents and grandparents. They smile.
Like they have done this pose a million times.
She has her arm awkwardly around her sister's waist. Her sister's dress is blue, strapless, and draping to the ground as it brushes against the grass. She is wearing tights and her short black dress. “Get closer.” Their grandmother calls. She waves her hand in emphasis as she looks through the small viewfinder of her ancient camera. They uncomfortably move closer together. That’s good,” says their mother. ‘Now smile like you love each other.”
They smile. Awkwardly. For graduation photos. For their parents and grandparents. They smile.
Like they have done this pose a million times.
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
Apologies
She found him sitting on the couch, fingers clasped loosely around a beer can with his forearms resting on his knees, back hunched forward as his shirt shifted to reveal the nape of his neck. The lamps were off and the late light of the afternoon softly filled the room, emphasizing the lines of his face and obscuring the days’ growth on his jaw. His shadow stretched out across the coffee table before him, crawling its way forward as if to escape him. It was quiet in the apartment except for the sounds of his breathing, the tick of the clock, and the music echoing faintly from her daughter’s room down the hall. She unbuttoned her coat, slid the closet door open with a creak and rustled around for a coat hanger. Finding none free, she hung her coat overtop of his and shut the door. She removed an envelope from her purse and placed the bag on the entrance table.
He made no sign that he’d noticed her presence.
“Rough day?” she quipped as she bent down to remove her shoes.
“I want you to stop.” Her hand slowed midair, fingers resting on the heel of her stiletto as the shoe dangled half off her foot. She slowly slid the shoe back on and stood there waiting, one hand on her hip and the envelope in the other, saying nothing.
“I want you to stop. This.” he repeated, his head still bowed. “I can’t take it anymore.”
The silence stretched across the room, as neither of them moved. There was only the soft buzz of insects from outside the window and the ting of aluminum as he lowered the can onto the coffee table.
She looked around the room, at the worn upholstery of the sofa, the baskets of unfolded laundry next to the coffee table, the TV remote with the dead batteries lying next to it. The dishes were unwashed in the sink, yesterday’s pasta still in the pot on the stove and the piles of unpaid bills growing on the kitchen table. A growing trail of broken toys abandoned in the dust on the floor wound its way down the hall to her daughter’s bedroom.
The sound of bare feet on the cold tile floor echoed its way down the hall and her daughter poked her head around the wall. “Mommy, you’re home!” her daughter exclaimed as she ran towards her and latched her small, skinny arms around her legs, almost ripping her nylons in the process. She slowly ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, untangling the knots and gently shushing her as the girl kept talking. She lifted her daughter up onto her hip, even though the child was getting to be much too big to do it anymore.
He made no sign that he noticed the girl, except for the slight tightening of his fingers on the can. She turned to face her daughter and took stock of her hair, the dirt on her face and the rip in her pajama bottoms at the knee.
“Did you have a good day at school?” she asked.
“I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Daddy wasn’t awake to take me.”
“Really.”
“Yes,” the girl nodded, “I made myself toast for breakfast. Just like you showed me.” She brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes and licked her fingers to wipe the smudge off her face, despite the girl’s protests.
“Did you put the toaster away after you were done?” The girl nodded. “Good job. Now why don’t you go start the bath for me? Do you remember how to turn on the tap?” And when the girl nodded, she gently lowered her off of her hip and watched her race away down the hall to the bathroom, kicking her dolls into the wall in the process as she ran by.
She turned back to face him. “Did you find a job yet?” she asked. And when he said nothing, she reached down to remove her shoes once more.
He raised his head as she approached him, squatting down so she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and heavy with alcohol and a lack of sleep. His clothes were the same ones he’d worn yesterday and the day before. His hair was uncombed and the angles of his face sharp. She swallowed and turned her eyes away from him.
She ran her fingers over the edge of the envelope in her hands. “I’ll put this on the table,” she said. “There should be enough for rent and to buy groceries tomorrow.” She stood up and walked past the sofa. She placed the envelope down next to the pile of the bills and turned to leave the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said. She paused at the doorway and looked back. She smiled weakly but said nothing.
He was still sitting there long after she’d gone to bathe, her daughter’s voice echoing down the hall.
He made no sign that he’d noticed her presence.
“Rough day?” she quipped as she bent down to remove her shoes.
“I want you to stop.” Her hand slowed midair, fingers resting on the heel of her stiletto as the shoe dangled half off her foot. She slowly slid the shoe back on and stood there waiting, one hand on her hip and the envelope in the other, saying nothing.
“I want you to stop. This.” he repeated, his head still bowed. “I can’t take it anymore.”
The silence stretched across the room, as neither of them moved. There was only the soft buzz of insects from outside the window and the ting of aluminum as he lowered the can onto the coffee table.
She looked around the room, at the worn upholstery of the sofa, the baskets of unfolded laundry next to the coffee table, the TV remote with the dead batteries lying next to it. The dishes were unwashed in the sink, yesterday’s pasta still in the pot on the stove and the piles of unpaid bills growing on the kitchen table. A growing trail of broken toys abandoned in the dust on the floor wound its way down the hall to her daughter’s bedroom.
The sound of bare feet on the cold tile floor echoed its way down the hall and her daughter poked her head around the wall. “Mommy, you’re home!” her daughter exclaimed as she ran towards her and latched her small, skinny arms around her legs, almost ripping her nylons in the process. She slowly ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, untangling the knots and gently shushing her as the girl kept talking. She lifted her daughter up onto her hip, even though the child was getting to be much too big to do it anymore.
He made no sign that he noticed the girl, except for the slight tightening of his fingers on the can. She turned to face her daughter and took stock of her hair, the dirt on her face and the rip in her pajama bottoms at the knee.
“Did you have a good day at school?” she asked.
“I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Daddy wasn’t awake to take me.”
“Really.”
“Yes,” the girl nodded, “I made myself toast for breakfast. Just like you showed me.” She brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes and licked her fingers to wipe the smudge off her face, despite the girl’s protests.
“Did you put the toaster away after you were done?” The girl nodded. “Good job. Now why don’t you go start the bath for me? Do you remember how to turn on the tap?” And when the girl nodded, she gently lowered her off of her hip and watched her race away down the hall to the bathroom, kicking her dolls into the wall in the process as she ran by.
She turned back to face him. “Did you find a job yet?” she asked. And when he said nothing, she reached down to remove her shoes once more.
He raised his head as she approached him, squatting down so she could see his eyes. They were bloodshot and heavy with alcohol and a lack of sleep. His clothes were the same ones he’d worn yesterday and the day before. His hair was uncombed and the angles of his face sharp. She swallowed and turned her eyes away from him.
She ran her fingers over the edge of the envelope in her hands. “I’ll put this on the table,” she said. “There should be enough for rent and to buy groceries tomorrow.” She stood up and walked past the sofa. She placed the envelope down next to the pile of the bills and turned to leave the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said. She paused at the doorway and looked back. She smiled weakly but said nothing.
He was still sitting there long after she’d gone to bathe, her daughter’s voice echoing down the hall.
Monday, 7 April 2014
subside
as if there could be
those lines
something along the wave
of the water
the curve of my bones
a shallow scrape against the palm
of my hand
as i reach in against the mirror
to kiss the cool of the glass
while the panic
subsides
i am still waiting
for something
and it is unknown whether i
will be capable of feeling it
when i do
whether the moment
when i finally come undone
nails locked along the length
of my arms
teeth through the pad of my lip
something about my body
tense with an ache
the absence of control
whether it
will be worth it in the end
i say i should
be writing
i say i should
be able to handle it
i say
that this
is eventually sometimes not
worth it
whether in the end
i can hold my body steady
that i can piece it together
lick the blood slowly
from the base of my skull
and pry the muscles apart
pry everything apart
until it no longer hurts
for this
is hopefully now
nearly over
those lines
something along the wave
of the water
the curve of my bones
a shallow scrape against the palm
of my hand
as i reach in against the mirror
to kiss the cool of the glass
while the panic
subsides
i am still waiting
for something
and it is unknown whether i
will be capable of feeling it
when i do
whether the moment
when i finally come undone
nails locked along the length
of my arms
teeth through the pad of my lip
something about my body
tense with an ache
the absence of control
whether it
will be worth it in the end
i say i should
be writing
i say i should
be able to handle it
i say
that this
is eventually sometimes not
worth it
whether in the end
i can hold my body steady
that i can piece it together
lick the blood slowly
from the base of my skull
and pry the muscles apart
pry everything apart
until it no longer hurts
for this
is hopefully now
nearly over
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