a bunny stares at me
Many nights
this summer
watched drug addicts
recover
I eat brownies and milk
face and neck
red
needles
electricity
burned hair
not me
not mine
leave injuries I do not regret
my cats are calm
i hear a fan
i once huffed gas
i looked at a photo album and there i was
a girl so awkwardly
dressed as a boy
so not fitted
in that giant green coat
as if to feel something loose with no other reference
not being herself
my Mom had a coat like that, she thinks
notwithstanding she had no say
what did all that homophobic, transphobic, habit-forming negativity do to keep her from herself?
nothing
like a cup filled with water and labeled as
“no water here because it is held in check”
I live. They don’t.
water spills always spills once the container breaks
Brownies taste better, not bitter, when I look at stories of recovery.
I close my eyes, and think, “I’m gonna believe you are ok.”
the internet was made for rapid normativity
like the blue balloon was neither blue nor balloon enough
still, i eat this brownie, almost gone, with a will to refrain
because I watched drug addicts recover
during the summer
so
