Shaken core
faith falls to floor,
hollow where once her heart beat–
pores soak heat body runs cold,
blind, I fill out forms with holes.
Lost, still one pant leg at a time
she tries on belief. Sisters
lift her up in yogic steam.
Child pose cannot hold her.
She pays bills, writes checks,
remembers the adored–
why it is not enough.
Does the daily chores, showers,
feeds and waters.
She dances, pretends
all is fine–
packs suit cases for no arrivals,
looks for confidence
in her bureau,
like the real twin she once had.
I know what I have lost
deep in glass and star horses
watch sun rise fall
let waves wash, ankle crushing rocks–
pain keeps me alive. One cries pretends it is rain.
With good news–
she makes designs to go away
leave sad girl behind
with hair streaked gray,
pulls poems from marrow for travel.
Pine smell, word rivers,
turkey crows, rabbits–
who plow holes,
poetry props spine
when she would cave.
Lies grow long
as silent summer nights.
She knows he does not want her.
Though the words cross his lips.
In it like never before,
neck deep she pores over sheets,
makes sense of petroglyphs
found in notebooks,
tries to recapture what she meant to say.
She crawls to the finish line,
back hurts, tears come uncalled
writhes with self-doubt,
wriggles in blankets cannot sleep
tries to recall her name.
Birthday comes goes
in a wave of turkey and booze.
More poses, less dance–
still letters carved out of my forehead
spill on the page.
End with a few good lines.
Papers, wrote. Deceit, billows
She thinks –
she is an island where words marry,
witness creation, lava flows.
First published by Yellow Medicine Review from the collection My People Redux published by Finishing Line Press in January 2022
