again. again and again.
2005-12-27 8:35 a.m.
hidden, i am the streets that stretched out their limbs between us, and networked, and recededthis is hibernation, this is intrigue,
this is the way he met me, halved and reopened, always reopening, as if i had
a secret
that always needed airing, born with a broadcast
in my mouth
a story lived for telling.
he came up in the woodwork with different faces
leaving me
heels to the air and running, found out
in my last moments.
as a child, i would see myself, asleep
run into the ocean
chased until there was only safety, the safety of going under -
my first husband
i remember
told me that he hated bodies of water,
hated anything that was larger than him
anything that could cover him up -
but i loved to disappear, to be forgotten, and would go
erasing myself
slowly
in long lines and short letters, leaving
traces all over his house, smoke in the walls
filing cabinets with the early years of my life
my mother's wedding dress.
a slap in the face, to say
i'm leaving all of this
all of this behind
to haunt you, so that you can call me
the razor or the gun, the doctor for the husband
the wound and its removal,
so that you can cause a controversy among believers, telling them
affairs that never happened, telling them
i am your wife.
years between this and now, things i don't want to tell you
that happened, that i caused, that i fell into,
that,
worse,
i fell out of,
that played the same scenario again within two years, that held my hand
forlorn
into engagement across the country, when
the country never wept for me
never called my name, for working, for promises broken,
you will live with your mistakes until the last moment, until the truth
comes and clears your vision, comes and tells you
what betrayal means, with ten years given
just to repeat.
with ten years given, just to repeat these actions.