Misgivings
13
my legs knocked
like wooden ship hauls,
thin as Pall Malls
floating through 40 oz seas
jumping baby gates for parties
drink, smoke, see me
drink, cry, mommy
rocking myself to death
Look at us now, sisters
still scabbed and raw
because our teddy bears had teeth
We held ourselves hostage
until the world was light enough
to dream
Now we build glass houses
so the world can see our tired faces
but know we are awake
1-7-25
all belly no guts
sickly child inside
heal and tell no one
steal the sun and give it
back to the moon,
without charisma and charm
forever in the shadow
of louder funnier smarter
there is nothing worth breaking
in a fishbowl except silence,
you were meant to spill out
and fill up empty spaces
03-31-24
treadmills,
racing thoughts
aware of impending loss,
hearts pump at their own pace,
but face to face
I forget to
slow
gentle
patient
in the psych ward
with grip socks
a rite of passage
you remind me of the moon,
sliver in a limitless sky,
universe you don’t share
is it me
or the certainty of an end,
good enough to pretend
finite enough to forget
Ruminating reflection
of the sea and the earth
and me,
now stuck on a memory
of collecting
cow bones
and begging the cops
to arrest that man,
faceless killer
with bones
like those I held
but they tell me to be a good girl
men always tell me to be a good girl
do not love me,
they say,
do not love me,
but stay
until you love
nothing but the moon
4/12/23
Did I love you
Or did I love my reflection
Fragmented/Split
I learned how to say sorry this year
I hear children are usually taught it
But I was never a child
And I never had parents
Sometimes I stay in bed
And wish for something unfamiliar
I plant flowers now
When I water them,
I remember to take a drink
You should see the house
Linda the neighbor said it’s lovely
Linda is lovely
Still, dirt stays in my fingernails
So when I hold myself, I feel grounded
I leave messes
Because I don’t want to be clean
I don’t want anything to end
I did love you
04-10-21
Barelegged and braless,
stargazing at the wall,
waiting for
a burning ball of gas
to sweep me into a vacuum
where the air is so thin
that my brain can’t
find it
“How does that make you feel”
they would ask
and I’d say “weightless”
for now, though, it’s all heavy
and my eyes are falling in
so I can’t see the starlight
only a wall
9-04-19
Sometimes shattered glass still cuts my brain
and you see me wince like the child I was
when I went running through the tall grass
with snakes and ticks and spiders
who made better company
than the venomous tongues in the kitchen
Resolution was a closed door
and three young girls
talking about tomorrow behind it
Peaceful were the days when I foraged for
shredded cheese and ketchup sandwiches
and raced the dogs to the creek
Heavenly were the days when I visited
my friend in the trailer park
and we sang Shania on the trampoline
while her mom made us macaroni
(she always asked if I wanted seconds)
Now I nod along
but you can’t understand
how hard it is to throw away the white trash
that we’ve collected in heart-heavy landfills,
our memories detonating
with a mere whiff of mildew
or the sound of shattered glass on linoleum floors
8-16-19
how do I talk to a river
when I am an ocean,
pushing and pulling,
swelling but never
reaching the mouth
you are constant and strong
most days I am quiet and calm,
but some days I rip through
my own flesh to break free of the tide
how could you ever understand
the storm that bites my heels
or why I never left it at the riverbanks
where I sought any semblance
of love or strength or presence
to stifle my little voice
I thought I was preserving it
but I think I may have lost it
somewhere in a prayer
so how do I talk to a river
now that I am faithless
7-25-19
Gretchen Pleuss 