my world has ended twice
it goes like this:
what matters is routine,
what they see is the key
so i sweep floors that shake under my feet
because what matters is routine
i breathe i breathe i keep my calm and breathe
the first february explodes slowly,
and now i'm sitting here
gasping, ashamed and sick with guilt
blown open wide.
they see the blood and somehow
tell me that if i get cleaned up
just get rid of the blood.
i cling to what i have,
try to force my cracking lips into a smile
i can pretend to be bloodless. i can.
the second february falls inward
it looms in darkness, then:
no one must know. no one must know. no one -
i breathe through panic and i sing through tears
as february makes the world anew
the new colors are wild,
the new me terrified
february tears me open again
and leaves me strewn for may, june, and july.
february is an earthquake, a hurricane
and i'm destroyed.
february is the rain, blinding, cold: