i am 10 sitting on the carpeted floor
fiddling a loose string while i
calculated the burdened economy of childhood
hair like burnt grass, twilight a
glimmer on the
twisted goal post with wrists warm as blood
i am 15 in the kitchen with an
overturned bottle of pills spilled on the
counter, decision heavy as a cadaver
i am 22 on the top floor of a
concrete institution, throat tight as i
peer over the railing’s edge
i am 23 in a movie theater
shivering in an empty evening showing,
silent as asphalt on the drive home
i am 30 speeding down a highway
steering nowhere while my insides careen;
gravel corners sharpened by a car crash
i am 32 safe in my bed
the memory of it all an ache in my body
while i forget to sleep