One hand on the baby monitor
and one hand on the razor,
I prayed for there to be no crying,
and if god had turned to look at me,
I would have plucked out his offending eye.
My damnation and salvation were at
opposite ends of the earth,
and I was in the middle,
with ropes tied around my wrists.
What loss is an arm? What loss is a heart?
I didn't understand, yet, the ways
in which love can break and maim you.
But I learned.

11/03/2011

Author's Note: So, I was inspired by a friend of mine, who's been posting these poems lately with state abbreviations as the titles, and I thought, I could write poems about the different places where I've lived. The thing is, of course, that if you follow my poetry, or you know me, some of this stuff is going to be familiar to you, and I'm not trying to repeat myself, just trying to get a solid picture of what each place means to me in my mind. I lived with my sister, in Jasper, Indiana, on 300 North Road, for about a year. I babysat her sons while she and my brother-in-law were at work, and when the boys were asleep, I'd take the baby monitor upstairs to my room, where I would cut myself, hoping neither one of them would wake up. I was also involved in a bit of a love triangle. Anyone who knows me or has read a lot of my poetry, you know how well that turned out. I was having a dream, earlier, a nightmare, actually, I guess, about people torturing a woman by pulling her apart. It's an apt comparison.

Posted on 11/03/2011
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