IWNHM/IWNHO: Befores and Afters

I’m doubling up with the next segment of I Will Not Hurt Myself/I Will Not Hurt Others, followed up by a second post of recent work. This week, I spotlight the section on the feeling of caught between “before” and “after”…

Sometimes the real world seems so warped that I’ve drawn a place in my head that is much more natural, warm, and easy; maybe escapism and I hope not denial. It’s easy to draw curtains, draw circles to keep out or keep in, to draw lines to divide. I could say before the pandemic and after. But there are many befores and afters. Before a death and after. Before divorce and after. Virginity and experience. Before a kiss and after. Sign on the dotted line and you’re invested. Normal was never as normal as it seemed. Now is not as strange when it’s settled on your head for a while.

When did we stop singing together?

There is the silence after the sound,
the moment after the whistle, if you will
stolen from the blackbirds
not the whistle, that’s my choice
like the full afternoon’s noise, a gouge.
I’ve bitten into something sweet
leaving emptiness there. There.
I’m good with the emptiness, it’s more
than question marks, less than damage,
a C-chord in summer; your laughter
as we lay together on the lawn
your head on my lap,
I think of fat plums, bee pollen.
I am happy with weight imposed,
your gravity is welcome and
I’m stealing your scent
as I brush a leaf from your hair;
It isn’t surgical; that hole is messy.
I’ve made it with ragged edges
and I feel a twinge when I touch you
of fox devious burgling guilt particularly
since I’m a girl who likes clean lines
and balanced scales;
Give me your smile tell me you do not mind.

– From The After