omission.
2005-11-10 11:47 a.m.
by the time the season came, i had already packed myself into layers, holding tight and fastened, a secret of omission.this is still the truth.
give me days to give up all my grieving, the matter-of-fact way that i have learned to be lonely, the words of the trade - intuition. those accepted things have left us
tying up our tongues in fear that we might use them.
dreadful weapons, i sat cornered in the country, my hands clasped at my own history repeated, i've never asked my mother if any man has done this
to her
but i don't feel there is much need for knowing.
abused, we learned to ie our tongues in fear that we might use them, might give away our shameful natures in short-ordered conversations, might play the part of victim to a world of exultant spectators
who name this as seduction.
i'm tired, early, of this story, because i know that it will follow me. i know that it will trace me out into the minds of good friends, will harbor me in times of reprimanding principles. i know that i have chosen, before, a man like this, who would have me
again
if he had the chance.
god bless the bedpost husband. god bless the metal clinging, god bless my wrists well taped. god bless my tongue
and keep me far from speaking.
i am tired of these stories from my youth, that i must go on repeating.