39.

I have stopped seeing, only blurs and shifts remain
I have stopped feeling
echoes pounding through my arms and legs
of things that were once alive
I have stopped
I have stopped

yes, my eyes are shifting in and out
of clarity and blackness
I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry
I tried

I tried to keep my fingers crossed
and breathe clean air
but I keep smoking, smoking
tearing my skirts and my legs
and letting go

I know you wanted me to hold on
but my fingers grew so tired,
so

tired

and they slipped, and I fell.
I couldn’t help it.
and all I have left is
repeating
repeating
while I think
while I think
of something to say

I just want to sleep, Mama,
can you just put a warm cloth on my head?
but no, that will not do.
I’ve made my bed without you.

I read a book that says that we are right to fall
and I am trying to remember
whether that is true or not
“no one else’s rules” I said
“no more justification”
“no more shame”

but I am brimming now with shame
and I am trying not to be
ashamed
of that

I am hobbling along rough stones
and tripping into bloody knees
and raking gravel across my palms
and I am trying, I am trying
I am trying

please tell me
that is enough
please tell me
you don’t mind reading
another selfish poem