elegies for a small town

1

call me dramatic / I think I’ll die if I stay here / by which I mean, I’ve burnt every bridge with a sharp tongue / by which I mean, I stopped tolerating small people / by which I mean, my therapist says that boundaries are uncomfortable for everyone but necessary for all / by which I mean, I am not crazy / by which I mean, my home is my sanctuary / by which I mean, get the fuck out / by which I mean, your breath stinks of cheap booze / by which I mean, it’s pathetic to get drunk at 2pm / by which I mean, it’s pathetic to get drunk every day / by which I mean, I stop drinking so I will never become them

2

another body. this place collects them like butterflies, dried and pinned to the fabric of small-town anguish. people are born to die young here, drowning in generational trauma. I hear the stories, attend the memorials. my heart aches. how do you process grief when loss doesn’t stop?

3

no one talks to anyone / they talk behind backs, behind bars / hurl accusations / apologies never come / from conspiratorial tongues / my therapist says that intent means nothing, impact means everything / when he calls me a thief / he calls me your girlfriend / over and over / your girlfriend / your girlfriend / they all do / as if I am nothing but an appendage that begs / removing / I resent you for this, sometimes / I want to be the villain / I want to tear flesh from limb with my words alone / I want to bare my teeth, pomegranate juice dripping bloodlike from feral lips / I want to watch it all burn and rise / from the ashes

4

happiness doesn’t live here: I have searched for it in the trees atop glacial mountains, at the bottom of bottles. don’t you understand – this happiness only comes with a sugared rim. don’t you understand – I am living the wrong life. I want to write of home. instead I write elegies for a place I cannot love.

5

passive-aggression as a sign I'm doing something right / by which I mean, I feel so lonely / it doesn’t count as crying if salt tears run with shower droplets / I wish I could feel at home; I am adrift / I lash out to steady myself and instead find you / my therapist says that for every negative thing, you need five positives to balance it / so I leave water for you beside the bed each morning / an offering to offset harsh words / it is not your fault I am rootless