when I reached the age of reason I hit the ground,
the thought flits across compact
mirror smudged from years
of overuse & abandon,
left behind in purse bottoms and backpacks every time I switch up my style & move on
to something: new/ fresh / else.
a glance into glass & I'm transported...
a babe on white lambskin,
a baby blanket never wholly recalled.
a down-to-the-wire tally
added to the roster, unexpectedly
a prodigal emotional prodigy, ostracized
alongside destined veracity: as in their
absolute devotion to TRUTH!
a time skip, a box-out, a blackout, a kindness.
a comfort over the desk chair where homework completes itself
after a thousand "mixtape playlists" limewire manically
alphabetized, rearranged & revised until dawn.
another decade maneuvering 'round roadblocks,
a manipulation, a deadening, a defeat,
an Assistant Mother still only a child self.
....yet here I am, a spectacle,
an accident, a miracle.
a smashing, a childhood survived, a light on an island out at sea.
can I trust myself? to go into myself? by myself?
when I lift the stretch of lambskin from an atticked brown box,
a painted porcelain plate hits the ground,
cptsd is a *****.