National Poetry Month 2021

I write about the womb a lot, I don’t recall it, so I try to

wrap my hands around its circumference. 

I try to enjoy its claustrophobic goo. It is why I rarely enjoy elevators

and why standing too close to anyone has brought more melancholy than joy.

In crowded places spread out, I am a particle of the great DNA. I am nothing, I like it there. 

My privilege to be able to feel and exercise the need for loneliness.

The privilege of being a mother without the contractions and a lover without the commitment.

Angry mind child deserves all the accolades, hyper sedated woman enjoys

the eventual promise of sleep and the temporary hug of a strong drink.

Enjoy every step out of yourself, and march upright on your way back. 

I want to elaborate on all the things that don’t make sense, on all the evaporated thoughts

I wrote somewhere at some point. But nothing is worth remembering if you can’t stop drowning on land.

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