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Self-Preservation

I paraded into the ocean on an empty beach. Isn’t it interesting? “Empty beach.” Empty of people. But it’s full of other things. Do you ever think about how many insects there are? If I knew, I’m not sure I could go on living. And not just to know as a figure, but true knowing. Like sprouting a third eye (and a fourth for depth perception) and seeing a little white glow for each one, up in the attic, the trees, all around me, and deep into the earth. I wonder if I’d still feel so lonely. I wonder if I’d be too frightened to ever feel lonely again. And the sand! Have you ever seen sand under a microscope? It’s breathtaking. You could spend an entire lifetime ooing and ahhing at the individual grains of sand from a single beach. Maybe even from a single bucket. Add to that the larger seashells, the larger creatures, the washed up seaweed, the garbage either washed up or on it’s way to being washed out, the empty cigarette packs, the empty plastic bottles. I said it again. Empty. But they...
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I Dream of Hospice

Last night I dreamt about dying. This long drawn out process that never actually completed. Days of weeks of it. During an upswing, I ordered some Indian food from a counter. The owner–a man I’ve met a few times in New York City–said I had beautiful eyes and presented a selection of t-shirts, asking if I wanted to buy one. I told him, “no, I’m dying.” Then added, “do you have a smaller size?” He said they did not. I’d have drowned in the soft cotton of one of those shirts. It would have draped to my knees. Didn’t matter if it was red, or pink, or blue.. “No thank you, then,” I said. And took my food. I laid in bed on hospice, dying of old-age related somethings at 37. At one point I remember looking in the mirror under a dim light. I saw the wrinkles in my forehead and felt my stomach sink, but then I relaxed my worried face and they went away. Mostly, anyway.. but for faint lines that never used to be there. Faint lines that I could barely see under the dim light reflected in the clou...
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Home

I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. An involuntary movement against the pain of the truth I cannot endure. Give me any excuse. My mind desperately searches. My arms shoot up from under the sheets, hands opening my laptop to write a few sentences that had occurred to me. Then just as quickly I shut it again and bring my arms back into the warmth against my body. My eyes dart around the room, looking for something I recognize. The horror sets in. A month ago, when I left I said, “Yes of course I’ll come home, but in a way, I can never come home.” It’s happened. My God, it’s happened. Tears well in my eyes, and I sit up fully now. Committed to the writing. I’ve gotten my nugget. My head droops, my jaw hangs, my shoulders slump. I haven’t come home. In my desperation for relief, I came home to the fantasy of coming home. And after a day or two, the dust is settling and I see that I have no home. I had a home, and I left it. You know, the story is complicated. I try not to paint myse...
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Susan

I met my circumstantial roommate at the front of the house while I was taking out some trash. “Oh, it’s you!” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a week!” I laughed, “yeah seriously!” and walked through the front yard, then threw my bag in the bin. She was on her way in, and waited for me in the doorway at the top of a few tall concrete steps. I had never seen anybody use that entrance to the house, and was delighted by the surprise that it led to her rooms. I propped my foot against the bottom step and looked up at her. She asked me quickly, “have I been doing anything to bother you? I get up at 5 in the morning to shower.” “No, no,” I said, “I haven’t heard anything.” And then I wondered if what I’d said was true. Of course I’d heard something, but it hadn’t bothered me. I felt a rush of well-being at that amount of truth. I also thought it was sweet of her to ask, and that the kind of person who would ask that question is also the kind of person who wouldn’t be bothering me (much) in...
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Location: Roslindale, Boston, MA, USA
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Centipede

I saw a centipede in the shower this morning. At first I thought it was a clump of hair, but it quivered and twitched. I thought about leaving it there and showing it up to my meetings with greasy hair. But then where would it go? Would it dry up and climb out to haunt me in my sleep? Would I be able to shower later, realistically? Sherwin's father came downstairs to take care of it for me. He smiled weakly, tissue in hand, as I showed him the way. Bent down and got it as I clasped my hands over my mouth, half-embarrassed and half-thrilled. The way that fear can be thrilling. He stepped back into the kitchen and examined it. “Old house,” he said, smiling. I smiled back and nodded my head in reassurance. “Yes it’s an old house. Thank you so much, it just freaks me out. I really appreciate it.” He was so kind that later I wondered if the centipede had showed up so that I could experience someone helping me. I’d only seen him downstairs once before to mop the floors. He’d turned the c...
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Location: Roslindale, Boston, MA, USA
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Untitled Poem (dragons)

It’s a village And I’m sitting My mother is happy And she asks me To come to dinner in the big tent She smiles at me like I’m hers She looks at me Like she cares how I feel   I’ve been watching Children playing I’ve been sitting In the dirt Next to a tent Amongst my work It’s the the golden hour No one notices me And yet It’s because I belong So thoroughly I could stand And join in a game Or a conversation Like reaching To hold my other hand Like a cat Curling up Next to her brother I couldn’t be happier   I’m sitting on the beach Next to my father We look silently At the waves I don’t need to say a word About how the world has hurt me He puts his hand on my shoulder And says he understands Completely And all I can do is cry   I blink open my eyes And I’m curled up alone In a cave Green tail covering my nose Chin resting on my claws I breathe out a bit of smoke Then inhale a little too sharply And cough My heart sinks A little more As the sound makes its way Through the t...
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