Stress Builds Catabasis

originally published in PITS #20 "Unflattering Poems: Poems that Show the Poet's Bad Side"

We all know this,
at least to some extent,
how ripples swell
to tidal waves, or
how much 
you can be dragged 
by the current.

I tremor when the earth does.
I become unmoored,
my head held above the surface
by the tension between
presence and pain management.

At such times
I am barely
literate in myself.
I cannot translate
negative space.

Misunderstanding
leads to hostility
but at least i can 
offer forgiveness.

I won't ask anyone
to love what I 
cannot,

but I'm working on it.

I take my heart out of its cage
when its palpitations 
exceed polite petitioning.
feral claustrophobia,
rabid, teeth chattering
banging, rattling

borderline rotting
in the debris
on my bedroom floor,
this throbbing fist
in the palms of my hands, 
begs my brain 
for something to hold on to,
a way to soothe 
a way to mend.

My stomach says, “fuck all of that
just fill me with dimmer switches,
stranded copper wire,
and car batteries.
hammer me flat.
Fill me with blood and regret.
you can't fix what you are.”

Then at least
some of the time,
my brain will say, “no,
listen pretty lady,
you can't believe
everything 
you tell yourself.

When you're done
with death pageantry,
remember again that
love for self and others
is *most* of what you are,
underneath your sharp teeth
and thick but porous skin.

You don't have to stay stuck.
if you listen to it all together,
it's hidden in the intervals
of our triumvirate cacophony.

Maiden, Mother, and Crone.
Holy Vagal Trinity.
Ankle, iron, and key.”

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