The Poetry Marathon

we fight for control
the illusion of winning
fades with each dollar

Something significant happened on a night in February, more than half my lifetime ago.
These are the details I recall:

I. There was a party at an apartment near the university where my not-girlfriend that is now deceased took me and dropped me off. I don’t know where she went or why she left, only that I was alone in the apartment with several girls (my age) that didn’t like me, and several boys (older than me) who very much did.

II. Everyone vanished into a bedroom where white powder was spilled onto a cracked mirror and a dollar bill was rolled up and passed around. I was left alone in the main living space where I began to explore, opening drawers and cabinets and doors until I found a large closet that was mostly empty. I crawled inside of it.

III. A significant amount of time passed before anyone realized I was missing – not to say that they missed me, only that my absence was eventually noticed. I could hear them asking where I’d gone, the snide girls laughing dizzily amongst themselves about “that weird girl”, meaning me.

IV. The not-girlfriend returned and was enraged when no one knew my whereabouts, at which point I called out faintly that I was there and she opened the closet door. Everybody cackled and howled, bewildered as to why I was hiding in the bottom space of an empty closet. She reached down for my hand and wrapped her arms around me, petting my hair.

V. Hours later I was by myself again, smoking a cigarette on the balcony. I leaned backward over the railing as far as I could and looked at the parking lot below. The boy who owned the apartment emerged from the sliding glass door and asked me what I was doing. I said:

“Do you ever want to jump? Not to die. Just to know what it feels like to fall.”

VI. I never stopped falling after that night. I’ve had my arms outstretched, waiting for the concrete to come but somehow it never does. I think that if I ever forget that I am falling, for even a second, I will finally hit the ground. Rationally I know it isn’t going to happen, but I’m still braced for the impact.

Still torn between cowering in a closet, and throwing myself from the railing of a third story apartment, because my not-girlfriend could not protect me from the boy that was a wounded predator who looked at me – and saw a rabbit.

it isn’t just an organ he says
look closely and you will see
since the very beginning
your best friend

has been beating inside of you

it isn’t just an organ
look closely and you will see
each chamber working in perfect harmony
graceful and intricate

an elegant dance that carries on

it isn’t just an organ
look closely and you will see
a testament to your resilience and vitality
your capacity for compassion

not just for you but for everyone that you love

it isn’t just an organ
look closely and you will see
in spite of stress and sickness
in spite of grief and failed relationships

you are still alive because

it isn’t just an organ
look closely and you will see
this muscle is responsible for every laugh and every tear
every moment of joy and sorrow you’ve experienced

it isn’t just an organ
look closely and you will see
it is a miracle

love watched as I climbed trees
wrote me a book of poetry
(that called me a whore
and compared me to my mother)

love had a British accent
took photos of me all the time
(especially after he’d made me cry
he said I was “still” beautiful)

love drove me through the desert
bought me trinkets from a gift shop
(then threatened he would hurt himself
and it would be my fault)

love was passionately intimate
stayed up all night with me
(when I wanted to be alone
and blamed me for his lack of sleep)

love wanted to know everything
and everyone I kept around
(this he proved by going through my things
while I was out of town)

love sought to save me from myself
told me to get the proper help
(then stopped going to therapy
and started taking pills himself)

love held me tightly to him
said he would never let me go
(because I didn’t know how to function
outside of his control)

love had exactly what I wanted
what I looked for in a man
(before I learned that healthy love
would never look like him)

I think we start off unafraid in life and proceed to learn through pain
the deeper the wound
the stronger the lesson

the scent of autumn still reminds me of an allergy to cinnamon
that hasn’t caused a problem since I was a child

my night terrors and fidgeting, my tremors and restless limbs
the colder months stretching on with long nights that brim
with more to be scared of

I keep a pack of back up lightbulbs to ensure my nightlight never dies
unsure of what imagined threats are hiding in the dark

how am I supposed to trust myself or anyone else to protect me
I still wear my fathers jacket like a weighted blanket
or second skin

I feel mildly guilty killing spiders because you taught me that they weren’t inherently bad
not the way I always believed myself to be

a cratered scar caused by a nasty bite now lives on my right elbow
who knew that something so small
could carry such poison

I could’ve been anyone
in any place, in any time, in any body
but I was born into this one
I was born as “this” and I’ve spent years
trying to make peace with that

I’ve had delicious highs and terrifying lows
I’ve lost people that I loved
and never stopped loving them
some are still walking around out there
some aren’t

I think this is the closest I’ve ever been
to being happy and enjoying that I’m alive
even if I’m still not sure
what I want out of life
or who I am trying to be

sometimes I want to be different
but I’m not sure what I’d change about myself (even if I could)
I have moments of thinking that I’d want
someone else’s face or life or body
but then I see that they carry their own damage

we’re all just… in it.

I wish I was close to my family but I don’t know
how to overlook our differences and connect in spite of them
maybe I’m stuck up, maybe I’m not the “sane” one
I think that I am intelligent and reasonable
of course, I may be delusional

there are days where I think I’m incredible
and beautiful and captivating
the way we think of old hollywood movie stars and celebrities
I know deep down that can’t be true
that there’s nothing special or perfect about me

just like there’s nothing special or perfect about anyone
that I’ve ever met and gotten to know
I made the choice to see them as special and perfect
because I loved them with their flaws
I don’t know if I can decide that for myself

if I’m allowed to make that choice, for me

maybe I am
maybe I’m allowed to be special
maybe I could be perfect
just existing as “this”
in this place, in this time, in this body

I am not that person anymore
the girl who once sat passively
as she was consumed
by every raw emotion

much as you may not acknowledge
I am not that person anymore
the girl who waited in silence
for love to come home

I can’t pinpoint when it happened
the day she disappeared
I am not that person anymore
my life is peaceful in her wake

I do not bite or push away
when kindness shows up at my door
though I will not forget her
I am not that person anymore

we are part of the earth
we came from it and we will return

I know this because you once read to me from a book
and I found I liked it better
than the voice that reads to me
in my own head

I know this because the lines on your face
look just like roads viewed from above
the ones I try to trace from the safety
of my window seat

I know this because your dirty hair
reminds me of my teenage bedroom
with its window screen popped out each night
so I could see the stars

I know this because those same stars now live
in the space between your lips
when you’re breathing softly
relaxed and unaware of the galaxies you carry

I know this because I curl up against
your valleys of carved rock and smooth sand
with my ear against your chest
I can hear the ocean beating

we are part of the earth
we came from it and we will return

I know this because I can see its reflection
in every person that I’ve loved
and I am slowly learning
how to see it in myself

it doesn’t matter
the spilled nail polish
the stained mattress
the broken plate
none of it remained
nothing stays the same for long

the countertops will be replaced
the new bed will be softer
the kitchen will be filled with different sets
we will keep going forward
we will not take it with us

it doesn’t matter
the dirty carpet
the toothpaste mirror
the wet towel
all of it was left behind
all of it forgotten

the glass will be wiped down
the floors will be ripped up
the towels will be used for cleaning
we will forgive ourselves
we will start again