Let's just keep it light, the world said. But then when I kicked up a rock, the soil beneath was drenched in blood.

She slithered in between the lines, reveling in the spaces, in the luscious friction between the words.

Some days, sometimes, it takes all my strength to find beauty. All my muscles, all my blood, every cell straining. And even then, some days I cannot find it.

And so she installed a zipper into her skin, right along the seam in her side where she had ripped open. So she could close it and let it heal, but then could perhaps open it again one day. Once she felt stronger.

She was like resin. She dripped through the cracks, sealing all the spaces in between.

She laid her plans out like embroidery floss, stitched together her ambitions.

I Found Her

i found her
the puppet of her
propped up awkwardly
all the bending parts collapsed underneath
recessed in the shadow
between the porcelain of the toilet
and the porcelain of the bathtub
she was folded up, like a secret
i knew she was cold, before i touched her
breathlessly still
but i had to touch her anyway
her skin like cold, white porcelain

the linoleum peeled up against her feet
yellow and plastic and slick on top
arranged in tidy octogons
underneath-
brown and jagged, crusty
half of the floor ripped up
into brown continents of shredded plywood
a strange map
of the upside down places
hey alice, where are you going?
down the rabbit hole, of course
through the bathroom mirror
she had started changing the floor, wanting a better one
maybe she tired of the yellow?
the unrelenting color of happiness
she clipped pages from House Beautiful
polished pages of polished floors
articles on how to make nooks
on how to finish things
secret passageways into better houses
armed with her putty knife
she began to excavate
pulling up chunks of yellow
the neat, lemony shapes
the color of egg yolks, the color of sunrise, the color of her little girl's hair
where was the secret passageway, into the house beautiful?
the tiny door she could, at least, maybe peek through?
folded, cold, and quiet
hidden at last
the monsters that followed her
will no longer search for her
this was just a puppet, after all
a scarecrow of my mom
made of balsa wood and oily paint
because she DID find it, finally
her way through the mazes of the map on the floor
through the little door, the dark passageway, the mirror
into the gardens on the other side
into the yellow sunlight