you put the fire in my skin, you
broke me out, snuck your way in,
you ****** me up and made me whole
you ****** the virtue from my soul

you led my lips to self-combust
i gave you love, i gave you trust
you left me breathless burning slow
you kept me close, you let me go

you flew my screams into the sky
like icarus, condemned to die,
you crashed headfirst into the sea,
you realized the sea was me--

i pushed the water through your hands
you called me sea, i called you land
i gave the fire back to you
we can't be one when one is two

but sunlight hasn't hit the sky
so keep the sacred night, and i will
cling to you, white-knuckle tight
we'll lick our wounds and cry tonight

voices rise from the cold earth
like necromancy, like apotheosis
calling your name in tritone
calling your name in screams

dark magic anchors me here;
my toes break and grow long
and root me to the earth
my skin hardens;
my knees lock like a trunk
and i sprout leaves from my fingers
i sing flowers from my tongue

your ashes have built me,
a fusion of grave-dirt and beating heart,
and i feel you in me now
more than i ever did before--

you are breaking out of heaven
you are breaking in to my body
you are breaking metaphysics
                                       to break me

                                       (to save me)

vultures and phoenixes fight on my branches

and i will harbor you
when you come all the way home

six years after you took your last breath
i now understand what you meant:

to have dis-
jointed thoughts, runningrunningrunning brain always running no time
to
breathe no space
do this-that-this-that
no breathing
how do i exhale(all i'm doing-- inhaling inhaling--)
brain fills lungs fill
which where what when
what happened two hours ago what day is
it when did you get here what have
i said what did you say?

palms fists in eye sockets
dark static dancing dancing
caffeine fired caffeine wired
no sleep
can't sleep
time to sleep?
never sleep

i remember:
that your pills weren't yours
that you cried for help
that you needed sleep to swallow you

that i closed my eyes while you died on your kitchen floor
and it eats me up

and it's only fair, then,
for me to have inherited your curse

in a whirlwind of fire and leather,
you burn like the sun
and leave blood in your wake.

the way you fight is like good poetry,
sharp and smooth and meant to be savored.

and if a fist to the face
made you want me
i'd take ten.

depression and anxiety? my students get a break.
the teacher with disorders, though, gets more than she can take.
frustration's running high, 'cause i've got thousands of demands;
but criticize the system, and i'll get a reprimand.

“meet them where they’re learning,” but standardize the tests.
“every child is different,” but graded like the rest.
“no child left behind,” in a class of thirty-three.
we’re “racing to the top;” if we lose, it’s all on me.

differentiation; meeting high and low.
always being proper... everywhere i go.
scheduled 'til 3:30; stay at work 'til eight.
try to teach with love; i'm often met with hate.

meetings, staffings, lesson plans,
trainings, weekends, lending hands
both to kids and to the staff
time for leisure? that’s a laugh

some kids cheat; some don't care.
read a book? "that's not fair!"
my one plea: follow rules.
“i don’t care. it’s just school.”

we are people just like you
we’ve got stress and feelings too
only so much we can take
‘till our minds begin to break

more excuses, several lies
so much stress i start to cry
“suicidal! fix me now!”
don’t have training; don’t know how

fifty things i have to do
never go to sleep ‘til 2
overwhelmed and breathing fast
i can’t handle—i won’t last—

i cannot relax
the panic attacks
my sanity’s gone
the class must go on

they’ve never heard
these unsaid words
my eyes are clouds
they’re all so loud

patience gone
raging on:
“maybe this
isn’t bliss”

dead brain
joy drained
must run
i’m done

soon
dead leaves, blood-brown, will
crumble to dust beneath my
un-curled toes; september, come
september, come--

my warm skin will divorce your cold wall,
your hot hands, the tiny ridges in your
fingertips, and you will become
a warm shadow - a gated path - a still pulse -
an echo that will reverberate
for years
on every autumn gust

and when i am chilled into stasis
under early october stars, when my feet
carry me home once again,
i will stand behind that pillar
and close my eyes
and stretch my fingers
and whisper into the noise

*i won't forget.

I regret
that I cannot write this
poem
because
I'm bleeding out at the shoulder
and I'm not left-handed-- I can't
write this poem
because I'm short-
circuiting and
stunned. I
can't write
this
poem because
there are no words
for this thing
I never thought I'd
fall victim to--

   the pen in my hand
   feels like a gun and
   I'm going to shoot this page to ****--

this ******-up therapy,

dear Poetry, I QUIT--

because
there's not enough
blood
left to fill my
pen

you're the one with the psychology degree:
yet you refuse, stubbornly, to get any sort of counseling.
we cannot help you.
god cannot help you.
you are broken and you will not fix yourself.

you need to face reality:
your husband is dead
your son married a jew
one daughter is an addict,
driven to drugs because of you.
your family is splintered
because you tried so hard
to force them to be your perfect ideal.


but today is the end.
today we say "no more."

today, we turn our backs on toxicity
for good.

and i will not take another ativan because of you,
and i will not lose another night's sleep because of you,
and i will not eat another box of chocolate because of you.

i will not be civil to you again.
i will not apologize to you again.

and i will not
see you
ever
again.

city lights peep through the blinds,
voyeuristic result of our impatience,
blinking at two bodies in a room
awake, alive, on fire
while the world sleeps around us.

years ago, my hand touched your back
for just seconds, and it burned for days.

this time, i feel it outside and in,
flames licking my spine, curling
around my thighs, reaching up and up and
--smoke thick on my lips, filling my mouth,
alarms screaming on the cellular level,
no truck coming to extinguish them.

you echo in my nose,
alcohol and salt, sandalwood and sweat,
like you were made of earth and vice,
like you came to anchor me to a night
i thought would only happen in dreams.

the sun finally peeks over the lowest buildings
and we are spent; my arm around you,
you fall asleep immediately.

and there in the sunrise,
each time my eyes open-- it's hair on fire,
a sea of freckles on your shoulders,
and i grin into my pillow
heady with the universe's whisper:
*"dreams do come true, darling."

I cannot
steel my heart
shut my mouth
cease to care

I cannot
turn my back
close my eyes
build a wall

I am lost--
should I leave
what I love?

for c., in retrospect.

I.

I curl my toes into the dark
and fold my body until it is shut.

You, soft-eyed and apologetic,
my quiet fire, my nameless love,
you want to open yourself up
and ignite, want to burn ourselves
until we are consumed by flames--

but my skin has turned to brick.

II.

You have given me light--
light to sink my teeth into,
to drive fast with, to dive into
deep water, light to grab and hold
and keep within me, light to
blind me, to guide me, to melt me,
light to seize with my hands
and swallow and whisper to--
you are mine.*

III.

Our expiration date hangs like a scythe,
like the sharp claws of God,
like a knife, waiting to chop the wick from this candle
and turn my nights to ash.

it’s 12:30 a.m. again and
dull disembodied teeth surface again and
they gnaw and they tear at my stomach again and
again I don’t want to sleep

it’s 12:30 a.m. again and
a possible hospital stay tempts me again and
it’d hurt but i’d get to leave work again and
again all i feel is weak

it’s 12:30 a.m. again and
i’ll pray that someday i’ll love teaching again and
i’ll sweat a sea into my bed again and
again it’s depression, not heat

it’s 12:30 a.m. again and
i taste tears and homesickness rising again and
i curse god for bigots and ******* again and
again I concede defeat