Do you understand when I say
I tried? I’m tired. Dishes have
amassed. I am dirty. I’ve worn
this nightgown for three days,
coral palms fading and white
background turning toward grey.
I did. I do. I try. How to explain
the fear? I’m frightened of leaving
my fortress, grey sheets, grey
comforter, grey seal for comfort.
One way in. One way out. My
kingdom of growled secrets.
My heart slams out a drum line,
my diaphragm punched in time.
I’m dizzy, leather couch turning
into a spire. Corkscrew into
oblivion. There is no beauty
in this. Can I bloom my forearm?
My thigh? My breastbone?
Cocoa pebbles help, but they’ve
been gone two weeks. A banana
because I promised. Coffee is
a reasonable substitute. There is
milk or cream. Both if I hunger.
Some days I float above my body
and watch, indifferent. Wish I could
turn it off or change
the channel. Or change. Just
change. How can I tell you
the pain of breathing, even when
I remember nothing? How
can I be seen?
The body will say no.
The body keeps the score.