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The last time I saw you, I was the splitting image of the Butterfly Project.
I thought pen could save me.
In middle school, they impress upon you so much about ink poisoning,
But not enough about what to use besides ink.
I need the butterflies on my wrist, I say.
I’ve been doing some research, and I found that
Butterflies can see the color red.


I tell you they tumbled down my arms.
The butterflies, they somersault
Over red crevices in my wrist and palm;  
Bat their wings like eyelashes holding back tears;
Rush air over wounds with their wings
Because oxygen heals.

I never said I didn’t like the taste of oxygen.
It just wasn’t my flavor yet.

Maybe the reason I like film photography so much
Is because an author named Janet Fitch once said she felt like
An underdeveloped photograph,
Her image rising to the surface.

Maybe my photograph is overexposed.
My photograph is of the whiteness in my mind when I hurt myself,
And I need chemicals like fixer
To bring an image to the front and center.
The rule of thirds divided me into two parts self-hatred
And one part hatred for hating myself:
Perhaps there’s one chemical I need to soak my brain in;
Perhaps I missed the perma-wash step
And I didn’t fully rinse away the negative solution on my film.

And if I am to talk about steps,
Then I am a spiral staircase that hasn’t had the steps built in yet
Because I don’t understand how to attach them.
I’ve forgotten how to hold onto railings.
My palms are splintered because I land on them when I fall.

Now I never said I wasn’t worth recovery.
I just couldn’t say that I was.

I am the embodiment of not wanting to get on the roller coaster because I’m scared,
but also being the roller coaster myself.
I just don’t know how to stop.
Prompt: write a poem about a time when you hit rock bottom.
You’d be mistaken if you said the stones
didn’t feel hotter than the sand beneath your feet.
Casting circles along the ground, light
shimmers between the trees. Flowers
reach up to it, along the way shedding petals.
I walk on, gathering about me my dress.

I’ve found recently that I’m happiest in a dress.
Reminiscing memories of prom, I imagine a floor of stones
instead of tile and a corsage of intricate petals
And a sea of feet,
Swaying to a slow song, like flowers
sway into the light

in Sanibel. Imagine our venue as Sanibel where light
brightens every picture and blesses every dress;
where the appearance of flowers
isn’t just a corsage or pretty weeds poking through stones;
where sand adornes feet
and wind means a breeze of perfumed petals.

Twirling down from the trees, petals
blink with color in the light
and stick to ocean-water bathed feet
shaded by my dress.
Days are spent winding along stones
of Sanibel’s flowing garden of flowers

And it becomes captivating. I find elegance in flowers
like prom attendees. They bat their eyes like petals
alight softly on stones.
I see so much light,
I would twirl and twirl and twirl in my dress,
spinning on feet


And if my feet
never touch the ground, at least they’ve danced to lush flowers
and at least my dress
has spilled out around me, meeting petals
soaking light,
cloaking stones.

In Sanibel, I dress for bare feet.
I let myself not be heavy as a stone, I let myself flower.
And I collect petals, to remind me things wither without light.
This poem is a Sestina that I wrote for my creative writing class.
10w
you are
much too
impor-
tant to
me far
too soon
The bath water
is the colour of my eyes;
yet, I don't know
which is wetter.
 Oct 2014 Kimberly Clemens
brooke
i have forgotten
that i am all sharp
edges with blunt
letters, that these
arrows are shot
with arcs but
s
t
i
c
k
in the ground,
sometimes I fancy
myself honey but
I am all vinegar
all salt, no soothe.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
My hands may have let go,
but my heart didn't.
 Aug 2014 Kimberly Clemens
L
I can't let myself think about you anymore
Or your hands
Or where you put your hands
Or the way it felt when you put your hands on me
Or the gentle sighs I exhaled because it felt so good
Oops
I'm thinking about how it felt
And That's Not Allowed
I can't think about that day at the amusement park
Or us getting lost
Or why we got lost
Because I put the map in my back pocket
And told you if you wanted it you had to get it
I can't think about the photo booth there
Or the reason it took us twenty minutes to take one picture
Such a bad picture of such a good day
Oops
I'm thinking about it again
And That's Not Allowed
I can't think about the car ride home
I can't think about when we stopped for dinner and your parents went inside to order
We stayed in the car
I can't think about that
I can't think about the countless movies we pretended to watch while our eyes were too busy getting lost in the moment
Or how it felt to have your lips pressed against my neck
The stubble on your chin tickled in a good way
Your neck tasted good
I hope mine did
I can't think about you telling me to be careful
Don't leave a mark
And me ignoring you
I wanted to leave a mark
I wanted a piece of myself with you
I can't think about the long hugs when your hands wandered down from my waist to my hips
And sometimes (every time) even farther
Or the way you pulled me closer
And closer
And c l o s e r
Until I could feel you
Really feel you
For the first time
I can't think about the first time I fell asleep on you
You were explaining the origin of your last name
Your stupid last name that I thought would be mine someday
Oops
I'm thinking about it
And That's Not Allowed
I remember where I was sitting when you told me you liked me
I remember what I was wearing when you said I was your favorite
I remember it
But I'm not allowed to think about it
I can't think about the way you smelled--
Like sweat and febreeze and something spicy I could never place
Or how soft your hair was
Or how rough your hands were
Or how I got lost in your eyes
Those big brown eyes
I loved them
But ******* I can't think about them
That's Not Allowed
I can't think about your voice
It was my favorite lullaby
Or the goofy side your never let anyone see
Anyone except me
Why me
Why did you need to break me?
I miss you
I love you
But I can't think about you anymore
That's Not Allowed.
Deafening
        
                 Cracks of

s i l e n c e
     Shoot across my brain
all     at     once
I register
                    The pain
Of a world without the sound of your


**name
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