Therapy by Erika Hommel

Laurel is talking

and I just want to shake the shit out of her

and tell her that she’s lucky to have someone

someone who listens to her and doesn’t ask

right away if she’s on her meds or when can

she get on her medication, when does the

health insurance kick in, has she been drinking,

is she on her period, has she seen her doctor lately?

I just want to tell her that when she grows up

no one who isn’t paid to, is going to listen to her

and her skin will ache when the wind touches it

because it will remind her of what she is,

 is exactly opposite of what she wants to be;

I just want to tell her that someday her home will

become a tomb that will protect her from living,

that someday she’ll be at the grocery store buying

cat food, boxed wine, pads and nothing will help,

the gray will lay on top of the gray and she will wish

she could curl up like a new born fern, before it’s ever

 introduced to the environment, held like a tight baby’s

fist, forming into itself;

I just want to tell her.

Comments

[Michaela Ridgway]

I have just read everything in your portfolio. I find your poetry fascinating, utterly compelling, sad, witty, clever and very funny, wholebodyshakingfunny.

Mic

[Michaela Ridgway]

I'd buy your book.