almond therapist 

my first therapist was made
of almonds. she said,
"you are a beautiful girl."
i watched windows turn into turtles.
i talked to her one the phone
while i ate my own fingers
& told her, "yes yes yes."
on the television a planet was born
& everyone held up their cameras.
took pictures & gazed at them.
two weeks later it came out that 
there had not been a planet. 
it was a just a drill. a test to see
how easy joy is to simulate. 
the sun went sour. no one had checked
a tiny expiration date on the label.
in some ways, i do not want
to get better. once in the middle
of an argument i thought,
"if i can just get away." i wonder if
madness is just a reasonable escape. 
i have had a lot of friends flush
their brains down the toilet
& i shrug & say, "i mean i get it."
i hated that therapist. she was always 
trying to comfort me. i wanted someone
to get angry. to say, "i see your wings.
god it must be hard." i put my fist
into an apple peeler. called a grandmother
from beyond the grave. she was 
crazy too. a body like an ice pick.
she hacked away at the world
& it never budged. when i eat almonds
i think of her mouth. i wonder
what she thought she could make
out of me. a girl without eyes 
or a tongue. i have always ripped out seams
& started again. she ate them 
one at a time. i make sure to always
have a mouthful. sugar & boots. 
my teeth like sidewalk squares.
i don't try to get better anymore.
instead, i try to ease the land. 
laugh when i can. grow antlers & watch
how like the buck, they fall off 
& become trees.