My dad caught me making tampons
From duct tape and toilet paper.
Sat me down and said,
He’s proud of me,
But I shouldn’t have to do this.
He’ll make sure
I have the things I need.
My smirk stares straight past him.
The things I need.
When dad is away we brush our teeth with alcohol.
We mix sugar into water
For our breakfast.
I’ve cleaned wounds with Clorox wipes.
Our medieval, dusty medkit shows no mercy.
We rubbed leaves into our ****** knees
And pretended
That we knew what the **** we were talking about.
With lies about what “elders” taught us.
Or maybe it was just me?
Maybe it was just me
Who curled up on the hearth
Shaking while my shins melted,
Filling the hole under my ribcage
With my fists.
While the kitten froze to death
Under a leaky water pipe.
The things we need.
Maybe it was just me
Who kept living like a refugee,
Or felt I ever was one?
Using one shelf of five assigned to me,
A bag of food packed under the bed
Long into my first years of college.
Living without when things ran out.
Embracing the word “gone”
As a new way of living.
Steak dinners from my father all the while.
Money for band t-shirts?
Ask your mother.
But new sound systems,
Let’s start a farm,
Adopt a sister,
And travel the country
Eating at only old diners.
The things we need.
The things we need.
