Sometimes I wish it were about 10 years ago
I was miserable
I threw portable fans. Trying to cool off the temperature
I kicked, punched and screamed.
I beat my head into walls.
I cried when everything else was too exhausting
and then that too consumed my lungs and cardiovascular potential
10 years ago I was still on the cusp of meeting my niche
and the cusp is sometimes just as bad as being
10 billion miles away
So while others had beauty
and some had grace
and some had significant history
and some had dance partners
I got my attention by being a she-could-lose-it-at-any-moment
caricature of a tormented suicidal girl out of time

It was sincere
There was little remorse
Just big remorse
Cumulative payments
the rage was so common that when anything
went calmly I was totally elated. As though I better live
this joy fully before it dissipates again
this card house was full of kingdoms
Jokers, hearts
royalty crowned me and said “girl, so much self-pity
do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight”
Wasn’t that K.C. and the Darkness Band — get real!
I looked at suicide hotlines like cooks look at recipes
Knowingly but slightly skeptical
I tried to go to carnivals
but the air was too bitter with broken laughter
I thought I needed a 24 hour hospital
but I needed an almost 24 hour coffeehouse

When words curled around my mind and said
please take us in, love us, name our language
it gave me a responsibility equal to motherhood
Stronger than citizenship
higher than helium even dreams about
When I want to throw a piano at your song and dance
dance and song cynical prison for pleasure
I instead pick up a pencil.

When I want to fall on my knees in front of you
and say no, I’m not intending on giving you head
I was thinking more along the line of fairy tales
how ’bout happily ever after. Or something slightly more permanent but having sympathy for your bare feet and bifocals
I didn’t want to see you get all out of breath
running away from my sensible soul and wild throat

So I wrote a thang
I wanted to tell everybody watch out women he just
wants your flesh
You could be in my shoes years later
trying to do cartwheels in quicksand
but some just want his flesh too
So I brought a notebook with me to the river in my mind
and dipped my eyes in deep
there was always now a healthy way to vent rage
It made me sick
I couldn’t justify throwing things.
I memorized the names of folk singers
past, present, and get this — future
I couldn’t scream — as the walls banged my head
Some of the polite walls parted and became doors

I forgot where the suicide hot line numbers were.
I stayed up all hours talking about living
The word said
Mama we feel pretty safe you’ll always shelter us
no abandoning us
we don’t have any connections with rent control
we love you for honoring us
And every day was Mother’s Day
and being word ma made me even more appreciative of my mom
So when I occasionally threw my past at her and she ducked
I forgave her
I felt remorse
for all of us
the words that were in me for so many years
waiting to hatch — waiting for me to say
I was ready to rise above myself and
become more myself
levitating to a different magician
And realizing the people who are ashamed of me, my quirks
are not growing
they are wilting
And I stand ready with water
The ritual is ancient
wallflower becomes sunflower becomes poet
this stuff is ordinary and extraordinary
becomes painter
or incense stick maker
or archivist
or card house interior decorator
Sometimes I want to get so close to you and
remember all I ever forgave and scream in your ear
but I realize
a poem is the scream that lasts
but just to make sure I get through, if in your dreams
you hear a hissing sound
it’s just your conscience or me.
Or just history breathing

Copyright 1992 Ellyn Maybe