have you heard the wind stirring like a whisk in a bowl of raw egg
there isn’t one chief direction it blows
it’s everywhere
over roof tops, through each blade of grass, leaves, your hair, your skirt, your skin hurts
cold
blush bitten
soft to scraped
there is this murmuring noise that is too difficult to block out
because it stops - all of a sudden
then begins again
with no real rhythm
like a pulsating addiction
trying to get your attention
it’s me
it’s me
it’s me!
why aren’t you listening?
why won’t you look at me?
hello?
I’m still here
I’m still here
I’m still here!
why are you leaving?
where are you going?
hello?
it’s me
why are you ignoring me?
I’ll snap this tree and shatter your window
I’ll cut the telephone pole wires
I’ll crack cement deep enough for you to trip in
what do I have to do for you to notice me?
hello!
it’s me
it’s me
it’s me!