monday

why did you move your seat?

i sat just out of eyesight

but in an instant

you broke through my defenses 

i felt the knot grow in my gut

when i saw you there

sitting there, silently

in your dress clothes 

 

two years older, like me

i find it hard to accept 

you're a force of nature

you don't just grow older

why did you get up? 

did you turn your head

to look at me?

why did you look?

my stomach turned over

the engine of an old honda

sputtering and stalling

in the great canadian winter

 

braved your line of sight

retrieving my parasol and bag

and emptied my stomach

on the walk to the metro 

 

why did i go there?

i'd say "exposure therapy"

just to give the term

a new meaning for me

 

you know, now, don't you,

that you've never touched

this brand new skin of mine

itchy, shedding, washed clean

 

i take comfort in the idea

that you've moved on

i'm doing the same thing.

working on forgiving you. 

forgiveness

what does forgiveness sound like?

does it sound like a sigh?

(mint-scented by nicorette)

a letting-go of all of the resentment and hurt

with the slow release of my breath?

 

does it look like lips trembling? hands shaking?

maybe it's okay, then, that i can't keep my hands steady...

perhaps it just looks like i'm moving on

(maybe it's the withdrawal)

perhaps i don't need to keep my voice from faltering

 

does forgiveness look like a new wardrobe? 

am i still allowed to keep my favourite shirt?

the one patched and mended countless times

deep cleaned of stains, falling apart at the seams, 

old enough that i know you've touched it. 

 

i wish i could tear it apart

threadbare, so thin it's see-through

ripping through it would be so easy

but i know i’d never let myself

 

oh, god, oh, my god, 

please, lord, have mercy have mercy,

give peace to your servant,

grant me rest and comfort just this once

and i will be faithful all the days of my life

 

faithful was i never when i was with him

promises broken and hopes mocked

wandering my eyes and faltering my heart

not for a single night was he enough for me

does forgiveness look like an apology?

could it take the form of tear-stained cheeks

red with the burning of resentment and regret

indignation always preceding penitence

must i apologize? self righteous as i am 

must i forgive? must i move on

let loose the millstone from my neck

swim to the surface and breathe

forgiveness must look like this, then

prozac and my sponsor my closest friends

but i’ll make some new friends

who’ll dance the twelve-step at my wake

rebuild my life from the rubble i left

resurrect the boy i used to be from the grave

the pile of old CDs and torn band t-shirts

shuddering

 i shudder.

 

between prudence and slivowitz there was no contest

after twenty-seven hot, dry summers i'm still tasked 

to walk this earth for weeks or even months to come

and so i must make my life liveable

nightmares

i don't remember now the faces or the names

of all the people who have touched me--

tutors, teachers, pastors, fellows--

all those who've altered the flow of my life

and helped me to grow

 

but those which stick with me now-- 

those i wish i could forget-- 

i pray to god i never see again

(i pray for very little these days

but mercy, sweet mercy, from above) 

 

i split, we crumble,

the faces are gone for a moment

the memories inaccessible

just for a little while

and i am no longer in control 

 

but once my head hits the pillow

our eyes finally shut for another night

of elbow-pinching awkward sleep

i will still tingle and sting the next day

i am forced to relive it

 

i cense my bedroom, the whole apartment

cover each and every room with holy water

recite spells i hope will dispel

the stomach-turning days and nights

i cannot escape from in my sleep 

so this is goodbye

i can't get rid of you

even as i scour the pan in the sink you're there

telling me how i shouldn't use the steel wool

 

not little loved, the notes you left me

the drawings and poetry and ten-page letters

i got each time i left

 

old cigarettes crumbled into the pile

patch on my arm 

bruises on my legs 

 

i’ll bury the ashes in my backyard

the smoke censes my entire body - this body, 

one you have never touched

s.

i wasn’t expecting you to answer

when i knocked on your door.

but you do, and you smile at me,

and you shake my hand.

the skin of your hands, once-lover,

eczema-red and rough, are just as i remember.

but you speak nothing of the past.

i accept a cigarette, and you would walk with me.

after all these years, though, i still think of you.

i remember, once-lover, how you held me;

the roughness of your hands on my cheek and ribcage.

how you bought me flowers. i kept all of them.

once you would hold my neck and kiss me

like there was nothing else you could think of.

i held you deep inside me, anxious, vulnerable;

you kissed me with my taste rich on your tongue.

but that love is gone, and no longer

do i hold onto anything of yours.

i shall let you go, once-lover,

and bid you farewell with a handshake.

body

gaze upon the frame of my body

the shoulders whose breadth i cannot hide

my jawline, soft as it is, protruding

unadorned with hair but suspect nonetheless

ribs keep me locked away in a cage

constrained as i am by my own body

i cannot live as the woman i want to

"but my mind holds the key"

on the bus ride home my ears are full

of the sound of oscillating bone saws, 

burring, bossing, cunty contouring--

perhaps, this will make me whole?