I played hunter once
Sitting in the deer stand
Tall enough to reach God
If we wanted to, and enough
Assurance to play God
As we were in the heart
Of a land whose creatures
Did not belong to us whose
Meat was not for our mouths
And as I aimed the rifle
Taking in the delicate
Posture of a white tailed
Beauty full gleaming muscle
Fur wet with dew and antlers
Reaching to heaven
I saw in the eyes of the buck
A shame that caused my finger
To coil back from the trigger
The understanding that I too
Have the wounded wickedness
Of a prey animal with a
Little heart full of disease
And I sacrificed my rite of
***** in my face and baptism
In blood to spare my own
Theft of a life not meant for me

They ask me, “Do you have a plan?”
I say, “I did my plan.”
They ask me, “Do you have another?”
My IV drips the same monotonous drip
And the catfish swim in it, releasing
Bubbles to my heart to fill me with
Some form of full I never feel
And I think of the Mississippi
I think of my mother's warning
Of the alligators, gar, and whirlpools
And I think that’s where my body belongs
Down in the mighty Mississippi
The great river my father played pirate on
The one whose call took him from his love
The river my grandfather built monuments to
To tame, to quell, because that’s what a man does
Stolen land and water, polluted by him
I think of how soft the mud must be
A cushioned pillow for my bones to rest
Crowned with cattails and pondweed
How the water might fill me like the bubbles
From my IV drip, drip, dripping
And the catfish smiles at me, his whiskers
Gleaming in the artificial fluorescence
Of the suicide watch room lights
They say, “Drowning is the worst way to go”
But I smile, and I say to them and the catfish
“I think that’s where my body belongs”

They stop me in funerals, in reunions and
say to me, “You did it. You broke the cycle”
My fingers twitch, a deep pit in my belly
A knife twists, the memory of her last words
With fentanyl-stained lips twisted into a smile
she kisses me one last time, a sharing of poison
As her breath leaves, a body with no brain
And I say, “But did she have to die?”

when did i lose my wings of girlhood
my cherub face grown sharp the visage of my mother
when did i lose my halo of girlhood
soft botticelli blonde of youth grown dark
when did i lose my robe of girlhood
the hair growing from me in itchy patches resembling man
is that when you stopped loving me?
no longer the babe, the little child of sun
jumping into daddy’s lap
does my reflection scare you?
the face of the monster, the *****
the wicked woman who tainted your heart
dark changeling taken form of nightmare
who haunts you, seeping guilt
the confines of marriage you broke
and left me to rot, a house of horrors and nicotine
of cat **** and suicide letters
a big green basket, plastic, decorative holes in the side
the pill bottles i count: 1, 2, 3, 50!
proud i can count that high
and mother says, “take this one”
like candy on my small tongue
my icarus moment of floating, feeling bumps on popcorn ceiling
falling back
down
down
down
until i am 17, looking in the mirror
my prozac a taunting smile, knowing my throat will close from a fear i can’t remember
the choking struggle of getting better
mothers eyes stare back at me, her ghost a reflection of my heartache
and i realize i was never floating
and we both share the guilt

you lay me in the backseat of your sports car
body flush against me, tangle of limbs as hands grasp
nothing tangible, your body passed through me like a ghost
the old painful haunting of a memory playing in my mind
projected, big screen my eyes growing distant as you crept into my body
the thief in the night, alcohol breath
enough to make a girl wince
domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping
my eyes sting too, reminded of a pain
your man hands, big hands
calloused from work a girl like me will never know
pawing at the impure skin
big hands, man hands
the force a ripping now too real
working to take something
domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping
her cries harmonizing with mine
one that threatens to break glass, our aria of suffering as you split me in half
rending me in a way so whole yet incomplete
pain without the tender kiss of pleasure
man, all man, all terrifying unholy man
and as you pull me out of the backseat you ask
“was this your first time?”
“yes,” i lie
and domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping