How to Stay

Did you ever move to a different place

in the same world and pretend it was a new one?

 

///

 

I remind myself I don’t have to prepare for the past.

I say it over and over

 

but he shifts his weight

        just a little, just enough—and I twist

 my leg so abruptly

        it stuns us both: the panic on my face.

 

What’s wrong?

 

but I was too far away to hold anybody

        close to me.

/// 

 

I remind myself I don’t have to prepare for the past.

I say it over and over

 

but on the field, he lands on me,

        a drop of blood runs down my leg—and I wish

it was enough

       to cause the damage

my body heaved.

 

Are you okay?

 

yeah, I got the wind knocked out of me.

 

///

 

I remind myself I don’t have to prepare for the past.

I say it over and over

 

but I still feel it sometimes—numb ice

     and fighting

for every inch of skin.

 

If I linger, the pain

      leaves

my fear and shaky breath: vulnerable and alive.

 

If I close my eyes

      and forget I have a body—it’s hard

to come back,

 

I never wanted to leave.