I feel you –
not a sharp shard of glass that pierces,
but a glistening hunk of safety glass –
a small cube jammed into the base of my skull
where my feelings meet my common sense
and jumble together into the map of nerves
in my spine.
I wear you –
some awful decoration,
a name badge on my shirt –
the kind that leaves a sticky rectangle of residue
after making its way through the wash
and I surrender to that spot –
verification that I have once had to announce my name to the world.
But can’t feel it anymore,
that tickle in my throat
and I’m not sure I would recognize it
if I heard it aloud.
If it weren’t for you,
I’d shave my head.
I’d turn up my music to obnoxious heights
and dance in my kitchen.
I wouldn’t feel my hair in my face,
plastered to my cheeks in the wavering heat of the stovetop,
curled around your fist.
I’d shave my head
and let myself slip-slide across the floor in my socks.
I’d uncover that spot in my spine
and pluck you free.
I’d make a new name
and plaster it to the wall of some stranger’s throat.
You’d never recognize me.
© Laura A. Lord, 2020
Quarantine has proven good for one thing…I can write again. Look for my book ,I Am, to be released soon ❤