Something soft, perhaps indelible.
Make sure the bathtub water is cold to the touch,
but not unbearable—lean into your body—
find your quiet space.But first, the door must be locked.
No one can disturb you.
The hangers, elongated, stretch to the thighs,
its metal hard, your skin pliant,
a mixing of fear and a mixing of anxiety.
This is how some of the things you care about
become things you can no longer bear,
how everything can change in a second
and fever on forever.
If the metal does not find an entrance,
do not force it.
When you bend too far towards your knees,
when you lose touch with yourself,
if the metal scrapes into blood,
if a cloud becomes solid and a fog sweat,
listen carefully to your eyes.
Tears are often lifesavers.
Sobs are often the only way to get out of the water.
Do not ever allow yourself to drown.
Then
rest within melody, thick breath, a shadow of whisper—
I performed this dance once, and succeeded.
A best friend, no.
Before you leave this evening,
be aware—and she finally paused—
every dance you will do from then on will be less fragile.
| Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Michael, I only wish I had connections to get this poem out there to the millions who should read it, in the tremor of threat that the U.S. Supreme Court WILL Overturn Roe v. Wade.
ReplyDeleteThe Supreme Court has made their ruling. I'm very apprehensive. Will metal hangers make a return? How many injuries wil we have? Deaths? Will jails in Texas fill up with girls who had abortions? Will they go to prison for taking the day after pill? And crime from unwanted children. Don't know. Seems our country is entering Alice in Wonderland mazes.
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