red walls are not a home not
paintings unhung hidden behind
beige couch and beige walls belying the
volatility of the dining room
your mother came and wanted
to show me how to clean
i was a mess and the mess around me
reminded me of who i was
now maybe i can hang curtains
open the window and hear the world outside
i don’t need finger tracks in dirt to
remember what day it is
i don’t need to sleep alone
to remind someone of
what i’m worth.
tell me a secret –
i say
and i can see you think i want to
crawl inside your skin
but being inside you –
that would mean not loving you
from the outside like i do
not whispering morning in your ear not
rubbing dreams into your back
sometimes i lie next to you and will my love into you
i want you to feel it
beating in your blood
but you just
sleep on.
i don’t want to be one
our differences like a dance step
our fighting like music
i want to be here, outside
knowing you from where i am
so i ask you to
tell me a secret
and i listen to all the things
you don’t say.
you used to be so
soft and sweet
the mother that i didn’t have the
angel that i wanted
now you are all bone and
sharp angles the shadows in your eyes
your voice, no harp, harping
my hand caught in the cookie jar, again
you are shaking your finger at me
i try to remember when you would
hold me and sing me to sleep
when i was young
wet sand like something you could shape
i was sure i would do
anything
for your promises of always-love
but now i know your arms can
only stretch so wide and
sometimes we grow too big for the corners
carved out for us
now i am too large and lumbering for the
child-sized shape in your life
your ribs show through your chest now
skin translucent and your face angry red
and i wonder where we went wrong
when i became something better and you
began tasting poison
i used to think you held my hand
to cross the street because
you wanted to keep me safe
now i wonder if
by letting your fingers go
i have accidentally
set you adrift.
