In the school bookstore
I tell Crysty
about the physical pains in my
emotional organs
and she smiles the way she does
when she knows a frown won't help--
her eyes aren't in it.

They're worried about me, they say,
but not too worried, they assure,
I am curled up on couches watching deceased singers
speaking Spanish and
I am working harder than
before--
an arbitrary term because I don't remember
who I was, before.

I've tried to delegate the consequences,
On my bed
are books, and bags, bike lights
and make-up removers,
no more bodies-- it's
being punished for what
I've done.

04/28/2008

Posted on 04/28/2008
Copyright © 2025 Melanie J Yarbrough