The Poetry Marathon

When people ask me what I do

I tell them I read people by the soul

String them up by their sanity

And leave them to dry by a warmth

Only known by being understood

When you thought you were alone

I tell them I make people fall in love with me

Deeply

I tell them I am a haunted house

Not one you visit on Halloween

But a house

That is actually

Haunted

I nurse the kind of wounds

That don’t come from weapons

That can’t be healed in hospitals

The kind that MDs try and fail to medicate

I tell them I am a healer

Doing my work one dagger at a time

Carving pieces of people away

Because how else are you supposed to

Find where the hurt is

Except to show them their own heart

And say “here”

They always look at me

Shocked and terrified

They stutter, “Y-you get paid for that?”

I tell them that is not what they asked

Eight-year-olds are absolute shit at hide and seek

They always hide in the same one or two places

And then wonder how you found them

Except if they’re in danger

Except if they were me

In my terrifying house

With my terrifying brother

And my terrifying step-dad

Tiny, very not-so-terrifying me

Had a hiding spot

Closets were a game changer

I had the obvious one

My bedroom closet

I used this one

If I knew I wasn’t in

That much trouble

They could find me easily

But that was the point

Lure them into

The safety of routine

Like they had done for me

Then I had the closet

Under the stairs

Full of Christmas decorations

And other things they tossed aside

I fit in there

Of course, they would check

My bedroom closet first

I always hid there, right?

I wasn’t the kind of girl

Who put up a fight

Eventually, though, they’d find me

It wouldn’t last forever

But it was never meant to

I used this spot when

I needed time to be brave

But then I had the hall closet

Less than 2 feet deep

Lined with shelves

No one ever looked there

They thought I wouldn’t fit

If someone did open the door

They’d look below the shelves

On the floor

As if it was the only place

I deserved to be

But I was small, and smart,

And scared, and in danger

And 8-year-old me

Could fit into some

Very small spaces

So I would not hide on the floor

Not where they might think to look

I would suck it in

And scrape my skin

And I would make myself fit

I would hide on the top shelf

In the tiny linen closet

They didn’t realize there was

Over a foot of space up there

If you could just fit in the space

Between the doorframe and the shelf

It couldn’t have been more than 8 inches tall

I’d have bruises on my ribs

And no one would find me

Till morning

Dying Dreams after Tomorrow’s Born Today by Gerry E. Heber

A decade and a half ago

Young me turned sweet 16

To celebrate this joyous time

My mom bought me a ring

It was hideous and gaudy

Covered side to side in stone

For inspiration, when she chose the thing

She must have used her heart and soul

Months passed and yet it gathered dust

Inside a drawer inside a closet

She asked me why I never wore it

I told her that had many causes

I told her I was saving it

For something far more special

That I didn’t want to lose

A thing so sentimental

She said she didn’t buy it

To collect dead skin and dirt

By seeing my hand bare each day

She was insanely hurt

So I told her that I hated it

I told her it was ugly

And I told her she could wear it

If she thought it was so lovely

She said she traded her engagement ring

To get me something proper

I said, “The ring you hated

From the man you hated more: my father.”

So she took me to the jewelry store

So I could make a trade

Get a ring that I would wear

A simple stone.  A simple shade.

I told her that I really

Didn’t want a ring at all

A ring upon my finger

Made my skin begin to crawl

It mattered not to her, though

I should show appreciation

I needed something proper

Sweet 16 was an occasion

And, in a nutshell, ‘twas my life

It may not sound like torture

Forced to wear the finer things

Oh, the shock and horror

But that is not the point

Of me telling you this story

The point is she did what she wanted

Every day, for her, not me

I mustn’t wear the clothes I like

I mustn’t wear my hair up

I must learn all the trends and styles

Learn to do my makeup

I can’t have a guitar

For she will not support a pipe dream

I mustn’t be so fat

Lose my weight and self esteem

I shouldn’t date the boys I like

They were black, or short, or ugly

Shame on me for caring more

About if they would love me

I must live my life her way

Regardless how I suffer

The last thing she will be is

The bullied child’s mother

My dreams for me meant nothing

Her dreams for me supreme

And so I wore the finer things

And let my insides scream

But I’m not 16 anymore

And I have stopped complying

And in the pawn shop ‘cross the town

Her dreams for me are dying

Contrary to popular belief,

I do not, in fact, hate myself

I am the shit

The tits

A real bad bitch

I have no deeper love, you see

Than the love I have for me

And that right there, of course, is why

I always wanna goddamn die

Because I deserve better than this

I deserve more

More than living in this hellish state

This full on mental war

I love myself too much to make other people happy

I am worth my own happy

I know you didn’t do it long

But I need your advice

Tell me how you made it

As a creature of the night

I turned my switch off too, you see

Many moons ago

But I must’ve done it wrong

Now all I feel is low

I must’ve turned it halfway off

Can you do that?  Can you not?

It’s the only explanation

For this darkness that I’ve got

I feel no joy or happiness

No light, no pleasure

Just a deep despair

With no hope of getting better

I still feel fear and heartache

Pain and misery

All the bad I’ve ever done

On loop, just haunting me

Make it stop, I beg you

This whirlwind to insanity

Tell me how to get it back

I’m missing my humanity

How sad is it

With us, best friends

That only one of us

Can win

How shattering

How deeply dark

That one of us

Must play a part

One of us may smile

And one of us pretend

One of us, be happy

The other, be condemned

One of us may have our peace

The other, be in pieces

As one of us becomes a shell

The other’s joy increases

One may think that this is toxic

And one be none the wiser

Both just chasing what we want

Peace: the great divisor

And reading this, I’m sure it seems

We’re not best friends at all

For why would one of us find joy

In the other’s fall?

And why am I the one

Who’s chosen you for us, for years?

And when will it be your turn

To shed a couple tears?

And will there ever be a time

When we can both be happy?

Or will one of us always smile

The other in Uncanny Valley

They’re mutually exclusive

The things we want, my friend

You find your peace when I’m alive

And mine is when I’m dead

If I should die before I wake

I hope that I go quick

I spent far too many years

With my mind a bit too sick

If there’s a god above,

If I should die before I wake,

Please believe I wanted this

Don’t call it a mistake

Please don’t have a funeral

Throw a goddamn party

If I should die before I wake

Buy the good Bacardi

Rejoice, for I’d be happy

Cry no tears, for my sake

It’ll be a dream come true for me

If I should die before I wake

If you peered over the edge of the earth

Do you know what you’d see?

What you could hope to find?

You’d see graveyards filled with the bottoms of gravestones

A constant tripping hazard

A minefield

You wouldn’t find flowers or trees or bushes

Just root systems and thorns

All intertwined

You’d find not a single heartbeat

No shining sun

No life

But you’d find love, nonetheless

Everywhere you looked

Your mother, father, husband, wife

Everyone you lost for good

And in the darkness and the shadows

The world would seem so bright

And though the sun would not exist

You’d bathe in something’s light

If the earth isn’t flat, then tell me why they lied

I mean, that’s what we call it, right?

When someone that we love has died?

They’re not gone forever

They’re simply on the other side

4 years ago, while madly in love, I drove to California

It took me 3 days, 2 gallons of coffee, and one mental breakdown

This February, I bought a puppy

She is the first dog I have owned since childhood

The drive had nothing to do with being in love

I was visiting family.  My partner was 8,000 miles away

My puppy’s name is Xena, like the warrior princess

I guess I’m hoping she rubs off on me like that

My family and I walked through the streets of Palm Springs

Little shops were around every corner

Xena is headstrong and rambunctious

“Cuddles” is her favorite word

As we passed by one shop, I saw a dress on sale

It was everything I thought a wedding gown should be

Xena passed obedience training at the top of her class

The trainer couldn’t believe how well-behaved she was

The dress fit me perfectly and I cried

$400 later, it was mine

Xena is training to be a service dog

I bought her at the advice of my psychiatrist

I kept the dress a secret

My partner and I had talked about the future, but we weren’t engaged

Xena was $1,000

I got her when she was 3 months old

I figured there was no harm in buying a dress early

When would I ever find a dress like that again?

Xena’s training costs $2,995

By this time next year, she will be fully trained

We had been together a year and a half

I knew he was the man I’d marry

Xena is supposed to be the one that helps me

I don’t do well living in society

Yesterday, I found Xena next to my dress

It was in tatters.  There were beads all over the floor

2 months after I bought that dress 4 years ago

I broke up with the man I thought I’d marry

Xena is helping me learn to live alone

I can’t believe how well she understands her task