8.10.22
SATURN’S RETURN / JANUS
last night the freezer thawed
and I meant it when I said it had nothing to do with you
it happens sometimes.
Takes a lot to run this powerhouse, this chariot, this vessel
too little power here, or too much push there
and the flip switches
it used to be worse—one could compost forests from the ashes of burnt bridges
I’m better now
but this isn’t the type of monster you get to walk away from
don’t get me wrong—I don’t shake at fireworks anymore, loud noises are less loud, no shocks to the body draining the life off my face
At least not anymore.
so when I say it’s not something I like to talk about
it’s not because I haven’t told these stories before
I just know what it’s like to tell them to someone who’s never been on the wrong side of
your daddy’s hunting riffle.
camo works on more than deer, you know, imagine being that doe
what if I told you; even deer can’t run as fast the women in my family,
when we hear a loud BANG
you can’t imagine how our windows would rattle
how we never stepped on cracks because
landmines break more than just backs—we’ve all seen enough evidence of that
it’s not a memory you can salt over your shoulder
But none of that matters.
not if the freeze in me doesn’t thaw in time to keep the force of your body from smothering mine.
Not if the fawn in me wont scream fire when you place my hand on your coals.
So yeah, I guess these monsters never fully leave you.
For some I’m sure the bristle in the memory drags orchestras of protests.
Then there’s people like me:
For whom the doe eye is more tremble than innocence
Us, who played opossum to survive
have a hard time knowing when to smile
and when to bear fang
I don’t talk about it now,
because I didn’t know how to talk about it then—
because I don’t jump at fireworks—I learned to know their schedule
because I don’t panic when you walk behind me,
but only because I’ve counted all the exits in the room
because the apology letter to my body (she was just a kid)
left out the promise
that it wouldn’t happen again
don’t believe me? there’s nothing war love more than a blindfold
so I dare you
pick up a map,
and point a finger