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BRINGING HOME THE STRAYS
7. He Is My Reflection
i am washing away like the shoreline, around the holes in his shoes, well beneath his silly legs, available for him to stand upon, it's a two way thing, because he calls out & draws me back in, i am always listening, he is the person i used to be, that poor poor girl of the past, leaning up against a high school balcony, in a short uniform, hating herself, her mood stirred up, like an ocean floor in storm, broody & desperate inside, she is thinking of suicide, her crazy dark eyes, & blank face awash like a shoreline, they reached out for her, as i reach our for him, but nothing touches us, our self absorption & confusion, when we choose to survive, we latch on, we drop off just as quick & latch on to the next & the next, parasitical, there is no one special, just simple techniques, pure survival, through him i went back & touched her arm, but what could she give me?, she barely acknowledged me through her own self absorbed neediness, to her, to the girl i used to be, i am a shadow that disturbs her briefly, edging her share of sunlight, & not knowing how long she will stay there i worry, until she sinks back in to darkness of herself, as for him, he does not love me, he acknowledges everyone in the same way, with those big injured puppy dog eyes, looking for a feed, for a handout or a kick in the belly, saying 'i'm used to rejection,' which is the truth, he is also used to getting fed but never gets enough this way, because people don't care, they need something in return, something more than his trembling ribs three times a day, his bottomless appetite & perpetual pathetic presence of 'feed me love,' because he is so needy for weeks & months of his life on end, he has never learnt to feed himself, as for me, out of home by thirteen, i learnt to eat my own waste & did not get fed as often as i would have liked, frankly, i can't remember having been fed at all, i learnt to survive as a woman must learn, to nurture myself, or i would have, god i hate to think of what i would have been, but i think i know, just look at him, my perfect broken plate |
