What you must understand is that sometimes there’s more flesh
left on a fish carcass than bone, that sometimes everything goes
the soft bruising of rotten fruit, that there are days
when even picking up groceries feels like a bloody victory.
My father always hung up the phone when I called on his birthday
as soon as I uttered the words I feel so- and the dialtone
finished the rest of my sentence. There are men
that have made dating so painful I would rather yank out my eyeteeth
one by one with string than ever get into someone else’s bed again.
I was taught in grade school that when a stranger approaches
asking for help finding his dog, you should automatically lift up your skirt
because whatever is about to happen will happen anyway.
Straight from birth, when the umbilical cord almost choked me,
I learned that sometimes it’s not just ropes that can form nooses,
but people too. I admire the bravery of fall leaves because they’re experts
at learning how to let go, of the last cigarette in the pack
because even when alone it still has the power to steal the breath
from someone else’s lungs, of women that carry their wounds
like wooden crosses on their backs every day.
What you must understand is that there has been a plethora
of cousins and uncles and strangers in my life
who have looked at me in silence like they were skinning a rabbit,
who tried to crack the sharp ribs of How are you today?
just to find an I’m fine covering up a screaming wealth of
Hand me the sharpest knife you can find’s underneath.
My bloodline is just another reason to feel ashamed
for something I didn’t do.