poem

A Sigh of Relief When the Day Ends

[2021]

I am from the middle of nowhere
Born in a no-name hospital
Raised on a no-name street
Sleeping on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor
Faded with burn holes and cigarette stench in the trunk

I am from a rocky alleyway that hurts my bare feet
And empty houses, once filled with neighborhood kids
From the chipped paint and broken trampoline in my once-neighbor’s yard
To a quiet, empty garden of dead flowers forgotten

I am from stray neighborhood cats on the porch
And the old dark green minivan Emmy
The windchimes in the summer breeze
And the inflatable kiddie-pool next to the damp woodpile

I am from broken glass in the backyard when the sirens came
On the ten stones, at least four covered by grass
And patches of moss that don’t grow anymore
By an old fireplace all ashy and busted in the bottom
Long-gone memories of s’mores by the flames with smiling faces

I am from that broken clock above the television
And the empty, dust-covered candle holders on either side of it
From memories that smell like dragon fruit
And the porcelain village that used to light up on the vanity

I am from a house full of smoke
And alarms going off in the hallway
A patch of dirt where I count the discarded cigarette butts
And a car full of a smell that chokes me and puts black tar in my lungs
“When I want to stop, I can”

I am from two parents divorced
From a twin sister born 2 hours before me
From my one household confidant, 5 hours away
And 5 cats to follow the ones who have passed

I am from dark chocolate brown eyes, like when the sugar rots your teeth
And thin and almost blackened hair, like my father and grandmother
Pale but somewhat freckled skin and a birthmark on my right wrist
Where a scratch from a pitch black cat has faded it

I am from Disney’s magic and Barbie movies at night
From waddling with plastic tiaras on my head
Glowing green scepters in my tiny hands
From pauper to princess and True Love’s Kisses
In a dark house somewhere in California

I am from torn pink canopies
And a Strawberry Shortcake comforter still on my bed
From plushies and get-well-soons in the hospital still in my room
To recovery from pneumonia after the cold days of winter still in my memory
And the blanket Aunt Shelby made me still on my floor

I am from being told to “toughen up”
By a man at the park with his young daughter
From tears on the preschool bus with a foul smell
From cobwebs in the corner and eight legs and cries in the dark
And the words “get over it” repeating in my head

I am from the elemental earth signs
From Virgo in the starry skies of late August
And the connection with the soil and the birth and Mother Nature
From the green jade and aventurine, the promise of monetary luck
From the pollution and the filth and the dust and the sorrow
And a corrupted nature in factories far away

I am from nightmares
From the small blue and gold pouch under my pillows at night
Filled with shards of blue kyanite and amethyst
For protection and quality of sleep

I am from Apollo, god of the sun and the arts
I am from religious pressure and “smile, God is with you”
From “Do you believe in God?” when I was 6 years old
To “I have books on witchcraft I can let you borrow” now
And trips to the dollar store for vanilla candles and essential oils in tiny little jars

I am from 2XL hoodies past fingertip length
From 5 am conversations online
From Japanese pop culture references
And German and Native American blood

I am from long black hair and wrinkled skin
Tomahawks, dream catchers, and feathers on the wall
From dancing in a circle and smiling wide
With a hand in mine and the music rattling me

I am from “you’re not a boy” and “why would you want to be one?”
From “Last August cut me to pieces”
And “They’re watching over us now”
And from long purple dresses and messy coloring pages by the lake

I am from cursing and yelling at midday
From hiding in my toybox in the closet
Drowning out the noise with Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)
And being yelled at to get in the car
“We’re leaving until he’s gone”

I am from days in the Super 8 lobby
With my eyes glued to the TV
From Twilight Sparkle and Michaelangelo
And loom band bracelets in the dark nighttime meeting rooms

I am from “We’ve been married for years”
To “Ah, child support is due next week”
From “I’ll be gone by morning”
To “Give me another chance”

I am from apologies and forgiveness
Apologies that I just couldn’t accept
Apologies that I’ve issued that have never been forgiven
The words “I’m sorry” over and over on some computer screen somewhere

I am from straight A’s since third grade and even before
From advanced learning in preschool
From perfectionism and expectations higher than the mountains I used to know
Turned to mountains of homework and stress and headaches
And from the anxiety of asking for help if I’m smart enough to do it alone

I am from panic attacks
And dragging my black painted nails down my face
From punching the bathroom stall
And neon band-aids

I am from an appetite
From those truffels of mint and orange in the fridge
From expired sprinkles in the highest shelf of the cabinet
And “I’m not hungry anymore”

I am from impulsivity and rebellion
And shaving half my head to make a statement
From dress codes in the office
And outbursts at the people around me

I am from melodies and harmonies on a rusted antique music box
From the way your vocal cords vibrate in your throat
To the notes that come up from them
The sound waves bouncing off a small room’s walls
And the piano struck one, two, three times in a row

I am from old musicals and Frank Sinatra, Postmodern Jukeboxes of the sort
From raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses
From spoonfuls of sugar and stepping just in time
And from blue skies and blue days, and springtimes on Jupiter and Mars

I am from burnt and torn pieces of paper
And lyrics scrawled quickly upon them
And documents thousands of words long
From lists of all the “do”s and the “don’t”s
From making sense of pages and pages of writings
I really do write like I’m running out of time

I am from that old keyboard in Tiva’s empty bedroom
And her old flute from middle school with a broken finger pad
From that black guitar named Ivy which I play upside down
And the digital age of melodic creation

I am from a generation of plastic power and silicone
With heads in computer screens and data-collection from third parties
From colonizing the stars and turning the world upside down
Studying code because I wanted to do something great like you
From video calls and a pitch black room, illuminated by a text message
From solitude to togetherness with one tap
And friends around the world, in Canada and New Zealand and beyond

I am from hyperventilation
And “I can’t breathe”
From the smell of hair dye in a small bathroom
From all that smoke in my house and in the car once again
From less than half a mile in gym class
And inhalers at the nurse’s office

I am from eyeliner stains down my face
And dozens of empty energy drink cans
From cheap and chipping dollar store black nail polish
From Hot Topic dresses and band tees
And three-inch platform boots from Christmas

I am from curling up in my three blankets
To escape the cold of my deflated air mattress
From slammed doors and groundings in the fall
To bitter fiction in the winter

I am from hyperfixation and obsession
From one song on repeat for hours on end at full volume
From staying up late crying because of someone that isn’t real
From video game series released for the DS in 2001
And vinyl records of music released in 1973

I am from nostalgia
From bleached hair on the porch when an ice cream truck passes by
As kiddie tunes mix with the songs of those long-lost windchimes
From old photographs in a rusty metal container under the bed
Of my mom and my dad with little me, out in Cali
Being happy

I am from that old photograph
Its edges faded grey and torn with age
And I am from family dinners that will never happen again
And I am from panic and screaming and crying
And a sigh of relief when the day ends.