For Eddy Walker

I lost my mind today
for a couple hours

I laid there but not-there,
disconnected, wires downed,

half-thoughts slipping through teeth
the other half dying between my face

& the puckered ceiling's death kiss.
Uncle Eddy is parted from us,

this goodless, badless ball
hanging blue in black nothing:

sea-stained vacuum, clouded, waxy,
moon flicking round it like a moth,

even as we scream toward the great lamp -
No: pull back camera, rack focus:

this hush-centered city
dreams itself away at 2 am,

grease-legged streets, rivets of dust,
as we all sail on. I'm alone on M street,

on a mercy mission. I think of Eddy
in all of the basements he saved with story,

of his chuckled smile
& endless cigarette puppies.

Now the lung is empty:
song lyrics from another room,

can't make them out as Eddy handed me
a guitar with the hand not holding a beer.

I played into the crowd wall,
Eddy laughed, laughed in the corner.

I knew there was a turn
but it never turned up
and I kept walking straight
in search of it.

The road was familiar
the turn was on the left
in every known way
yet in the broad daylight
it left me.

I know you wouldn't believe it
neither did I
as alike a puzzled wayfarer
I kept on looking for the turn.

It happened to me.
P'raps it happens in other lives too,
the turn always there
keeps eluding.

Then when found,
it's no longer needed.

Medusa, how your sisters suffer still
We hope, because in you, we see ourselves
Our stories transform, as yours always will

Your myth eternal-shifts on steady shelves
Our female thermostat for social mores
We hope, because in you, we see ourselves

Bewitching minx, besmirched Athena’s laws
Woman-judged and hexed when male-defiled
Our female thermostat for social mores

Mortal monster, murdered and reviled
Early poster child for victim’s curse
Woman-judged and hexed when male-defiled

Beheaded gorgon, potent beauty birthed
A sister sign of fury, seen at last
Early poster child for victim’s curse

From villain crone rebuilt, crusader-cast
Medusa, how your sisters suffer still
A sister sign of fury, seen at last
Our stories transform, as yours always will

I speak of what I've learned,
but I tell no one of the journey,
the mistakes
to be where I am now.
I tell no one.
but I will tell you, this paper.
When I was a child
I repetitively watched my father
beat what looked as future me.
who I wanted to be.
my mother.
but as I grew older,
I realized that is the opposite of who I would become.
I watched my dad get drunk.
he put this label on himself
that my family couldn't bare.
something I couldn't understand.
achohlic.
But seeing myself now, not even an adult yet.
and still, I have before been consumed
by alcohol, and chosen toxicity over purity.
let someone lay hands on me
knowing that all my father has done
is teach me that I am no less than,
a princess.
yet he also taught me
that laying hands on someone you love is okay.
my mom taught me that staying silent is what
we're good at, told me that someday
shed be my hero. she never was.
she taught me that how to cope is to
move from 10 different guys in 10 days.
I have watched myself turn into the people I told myself
I'd never be.
but now this is me.
my dad is no longer addicted, nor is he abusive.
but the scars are still there.
and my mom is finally in a good relationship,
but because of all that I went through,
I will never let someone raise their tone with her.
and when people like to state "if you weren't hit, its okay."
but in reality, it will leave more bruises on you than those who were hit.
because still, my dad is somehow,
my hero.
and for that, I will never forgive myself.
I will never be the same.