For Raelene, who asked, and for Shelley, who hurts.
Hurts so much, bright agony of light
piercing the slatted blinds and I’m awake.
This is the pain I won’t give up.
Contradiction. I wanted to go somewhere,
so I buttered toast, blasted milk,
drank coffee by the window, looked down to the street,
and all that time, I was a body with corners.
Contradiction. I was soft and I was brittle,
pressing my fingerprints into the burn.
When the wound speaks out, I am grateful
for the company. I’m waiting to see
how okay I’m going to be.
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