Some Kind of “Why I Write” Poem
Yes, I guess
I have a lot of feelings
my friends greet me
with boxes of tissues
in hand – I write
monuments to moments
that froze me inside
think of my eyes
as thawing if it helps
– it helps.
I guess I think
of childhood as a
kind of hibernation
the instinct of burrowing
that lingers beyond womb
a silence that sounds
like heartbeat
I used to keep everything
pressed in my eardrums
I could not hear you
then – it was cold –
there were words
I guess. I swallowed them
but they never left
the pink of my mouth.
I am sorry
I am not sorry
for what happens
when they reach you.
I am only trying
to become water
slow melting
ice unprotecting.
I am a droplet
landing on your skin
racing to match my temperature
to yours.