My mouth a smashed blood filled cave
Or I went into the kelp forest with my flashlight and kettle
My knees also bloody I hit a curb tripped and fell on my way in to the dentist office Friday morning then I fell again (fainted) once I got home made it as far as my bedroom collapsed on the floor in front of my bed
Syncope is real I’ve suffered from it since I was eight years old and the link between syncope and panic attacks is true
The sad O of my bloody stitched mouth my lips ringed in blood when I looked in the truck’s visor mirror on the way home horrible what what
Three days barely drinking enough water to swallow the plentiful hydrocodone at least there was that but after three days I had to make myself stop because I have been a drug addict with an intense love history with cocaine in my deep past and recently it took me a very long time to wean myself off all the psychiatrist prescribed benzodiazepines I had been on for years I know myself and I know my limit three days
Three days like Jesus in his own damn cave in fact he complained about me sharing his cave after the first day and I said shut it Jesus Christ give me a break
A strange beast now floating in my mouth all. these. teeth. the utter crowdedness the unfamiliar slick of the false gums the foreign the debris of the wreckage my tongue prodding and prodding the awfulness of the extractions the sutures black insects dancing along my gums
On Wednesday desolate arrived the Tribe Nations gathered behind my eyes canoes lined up in the sand each painted differently the two front boats one black one white hung with evergreen garlands around their prows my sudden feeling of utter loss for everything that was dear about my most secret body I wept for my lost girlhood for my what I grew so beautifully in my head my lovely bright girl head my lionhearted head
Oh.
I didn’t realize no one warned me that this too would be a grieving process darling Rebecca my darling good girl
Oh, forgive me darling Rebecca! I started reading this right after you posted it and then something happened, I don't know what and I did not come back because my mind was a fog, I guess, I don't know. Or maybe this was too much for me to ingest all at once.
Now I have read it all and twice and tears are hot, and I do not know how you can be so brave. So. Very. Brave.
Of course it has to be a time of deep grief. Aren't the worst dreams the ones where our teeth fall out?
I grieve for you. For you now and for that girl. I know that girl. I swear I do.
And over all, over everything, I marvel at the poetry you create.
Oh, Rebecca. I wish that I could come up there and take care of you. I wish more that you didn’t have to go through this.