these days I am more mouse-caught-in-mousetrap than anything else.
what is a girl if not a collection of:
bruised knees and weeping eyes
iron nails hammered into ribs
and something hollow in the wrists
in this colorful mosaic of regrets, I learned how to be consumed and
how to become something that knew the price of survival.
there: an old friend my words stopped reaching.
there: a distant family member in a coffin.
there: a missed opportunity, filled with laughter that doesn't come from me.
who would have thought I'd hang on this long?
I have never been able to envision a future, too enraptured in the past.
the present is a gift I returned three birthdays ago, receipt in hand
and mouth empty.
my nails are torn off;
I imagine claws in the empty space they leave behind.
become a wolf, a mountain lion, a coyote--
something with a chance of survival.
did I mention the maze yet?
always twisting and turning, lost no matter what path I take.
hand against the wall, I walk
to another dead end.
I am stuck, possessed by a banshee wailing her regrets;
the only one I can name
is my name.
mouse-caught-in-mousetrap, soon to meet a hawk-hungry-in-the-fields.
tell me, is a maze without an exit a challenge or a death sentence?
either way, I trudge on, bleeding, bruised, lost and losing