the hill dips down deep
behind our house, stretches
out to touch the creek and
runs itself right up to the tree
line. when i was sixteen and
i wanted to die i would come here
and beg the sky to tell me why i
wished my skin would fall off,
why i couldn't bare the sight
of my own hands. i used to
think the ground would
just soak me up,
wouldn't it, if i stayed
there long enough. but
katie always found me, always
yelled for kerstyn to scoop
me from the heap i had
created out of myself and take
me to my room before mom
wandered upon me, the brim of
her shirt filled with blackberries
and her fingers stained.

but now i lay here and i
fill my eyes with sky
and sunlight, think about how
thumbs is buried not too far
off, think about how every once
in a while i'm sure i've caught a
whiff of the fur around her neck
when the wind shifts just right. i
let the leaves trace my body
and crunch under the weight
and pull of my fingers
and i
breathe breathe breathe
until i remember that i no
longer have to force myself to
do it. is this what normal feels like?