adverse childhood experiences 

i am learning about the ways 
a piece of red yarn can pass through 
the needle's head unharmed. disbelief.
my heart takes a biplane
to a treed peach, ripe as origami. 
do you mean to tell me 
all children didn't run 
to hide in piles of straw?
curl to the size of a pistachio
at the thought of their names?
i used to weed the church garden
with angels tangled in my hair.
night feel like a dropped book.
scraped my knees on the promises
of my father's teeth. 
eating candy wrappers for their sweetness.
rain leaking in from a hole
in the ceiling. the world seemed suddnely 
like rotting fruit. catching flies
& befriending them. brevity.
suitcases full of shoes. the bus station
where bodies arrived as dolls.
i played alone to the sounds
of ghosts asking for turns
with my stuffed animals. two girls 
running up & down the hall. 
fear of drowning in the bath. 
monsterous rocking chair.
dull steak knives. i went days 
without anything but angel chatter.
choruses of dandelions. i joined them.
became the lovelist weed.
ragged hair. dirt under my nails.
my mother with a pitcher of iced tea.
brother, chicken breast born,
needed so much snow. i'd go
to the top of the mountain to scoop it.
returning resentful. why had no one
asked me how i wanted to live?
walking my goldfish down 
to the creek. telling him 
he would be better off up stream.
filing cabinet gills. 
rustling trees. 
angels perching there too.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.