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I think of the bumble bee,
The body breaking and drowning,
I tried to save it.
But when I knew it wasn’t going to make it
I laid him to rest in the soil of a houseplant,
Let him know he worked so hard
And I was proud of him.
I think of just last year,
The body breaking and drowning,
My ribs still carry the phantom aches
Of slouching and dry heaving,
A stress fever,
A shaky hand,
Vertigo over and over,
The body hardly as sick as the mind.
I think of the opossum,
The body breaking and choking,
Circling and circling,
Choking on its own blood.
All I could do was watch
Until she falls over on her side,
A smoker wheezing,
Coughing,
I tell her I’m sorry,
My mother wraps her in a shirt,
Carries her to the tree line and tells me
It’s time I go home.
I think of two years ago,
The body breaking and choking,
Trying to bring my head underwater
In the bathtub,
Choking on my thoughts,
Eating my tears,
Not understanding
Why my body just won’t let me go under.
I have drowned before
And it was only unpleasant
When I was forced to come back up
And breathe.
I think of the raccoon,
Body broken and bleeding,
They were already dead when I turned the corner,
The car lights illuminating their
Lifeless eyes, ghost like,
Broken jaw and twisted ribs,
I sat in the road and stared
Mouth open wide,
Mirror image of the body before me,
I tell them I wish I were here earlier,
Maybe I could have saved them.
I think of a few months ago,
Body broken and bleeding,
Drunk in the bathtub,
The only thing I remember that night
Is confessing my love and promising
I wasn’t going to kill myself in that tub,
I’m not going to kill myself,
I don’t want to do that anymore,
Don’t worry I’m not going to kill myself,
I’m not drowning anymore.
I think of the baby blue jay,
Body small and trembling,
Tiny but heart beating faster than mine,
My finger against the chest,
Stroking its feathers,
Bleeding from under the wing,
It’s going to be okay,
As it breathes faster and harder,
It’s going to be okay,
My finger feeling it’s heartbeat the entire time,
It’s going to be okay,
Holding it in my hands I am also a child,
It’s going to be okay,
As we bury it under the orange trees.
I think of now,
Body small and trembling,
Vertigo over and over,
Shaky hands,
Stress fever,
The ribs never stop aching,
But pain is such a natural thing,
And I’ve seen it take the smallest
Most insignificant life.
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