I remember when there was a lullin the sharpness,
that was the worst
when the quiet was raging
my eyes tracking his feet, hands,
voice, tone, eye contact, or lack of,
trailing, a lens on high speed
following the light between the leaves
every shadow, a sign
God forbid I forgot
and let my childhood take me
in it’s arms
the joy of my friend’s laughter
while we swirled the circling
playground
God forbid I let myself
actually sleep instead of
hum
actually eat instead of
graze
actually love
instead of
hover
But it happened
I couldn’t help myself
I couldn’t stop forgetting
Because I needed to live
more than anything
When the violence returned
it was worse for having forgotten
his weight was heavier
his invasions were meaner
his breath was hotter
and the shock, the shock
How could I have softened
when I knew it would come?
Why did I let my body
come down?
What was I thinking
when I believed that pleasure
could protect me this one little time?
I was wrong
I was remiss
It didn’t protect me.
When the joy hits
even in adulthood
it’s terrifying
The spaces between
are still yelling
my body awake
often
wanting me to hold still
electric
waiting
Memory tips me off
even now
at the edges of sweetness
warning me not
to let love
swaddle me
asleep
I open
don’t think I don’t,
I do open
because I chose that
even then,
even when hatred
put me to bed
at night
when his grip
preferred
my death to
my innocence
even then, I opened
But I don’t forget
as deeply
as I wish
I want my body to forget
and it won’t
lay
in the warm sand
and just be warm
Like all things in nature
I am reaching for the rest,
my daughter holds my hand
the dirt in the garden passes over my skin
I exhale while gazing at the water
and it’s warmth everywhere
I tell my body it will last,
that the sun still shines after
the light ends
when I shiver under cool sheets
willing myself to breathe
the darkness deepens
pressing downward
on my vulnerable pulse,
long
after
the sun
has gone
away
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