if we close our eyes and i clasp
my hands together really tight, we can
pretend that i’m 7 again

so embarrassed to tell gram that i wet the bed
i smile and nod
through the wetness down my legs

nobody’s home to tuck me in
in a minute i’ll have to get up and take a shower, and then i’ll see
the blood.

every car that’s driving by slows down by our house
the drivers rubberneck into our family room
& peer over the kitchen counter to stare at my naked body,
a fender ****** on route 30

traffic will be backed up for miles

this accident has scars on its arms
this accident has shaky hands
this accident can’t look you in the eye when it says
i’m sorry

in 20 minutes, it’ll all be down the drain
i will send grace pictures
of me when i got my wisdom teeth out
and reassure her that the swelling won’t be that bad

after i clean the knife we can act
like nothing ever happened, until
the next time that i hurt someone
other than myself

won't be different
you will fix your crooked poster
she will say you're funny,
he will cut in line for lunch
you will trip while walking
you can fight it, you can run
sooner or later you will be alone again

so you climb on your roof and scream
to the moon, that silent son of none:
"it's not my fault
  it's not my fault"

he stares back, unforgiving:
"tomorrow will be a new day
  you will count the paint marks on the ceiling
  he will look at her and smile,
  she will call you friend
  you will say something wrong
  laugh if you want, cry if you must
  it makes no difference to me"

he tells you he will come again,
& in all of this, the question lingers: