365 Poems: 21 – Rise Above (Rough First Draft)

Rise Above

I didn’t think I’d get this far today.

Twenty minutes ago, the idea

of  brushing my teeth was ridiculous.


My dry flannel has taken on

the curved shape of the side of the bath,

and is rough as coral in my hands.

I soak it for five minutes

and breathe into the mirror.


Outside, the moon is still blue.

I can see it in thin sections

through the slightly upturned blinds.


At the top of the stairs, I’m concerned

with the sporadic beating of my heart,

like it’s trying to figure out

what it’s purpose is.


I haven’t been downstairs in days.


Post lied piled on the mat.

Some has shrugged itself under,

where the carpet has started to come loose.


It’s not like we can plan our lives.

It’s not like we can plan

if we’re going to fuck up again at Christmas.


When I was a child, I liked to hide

under the bed. It was beautiful under there,

empty perfume bottles, little ones from the Body Shop,

smell of strong mustard and vanilla pods.


I stopped going under there

when I grew tall and started daydreaming

about wild, sexual encounters


The stairs take sixty minutes.

At the bottom, the sun is up

I haven’t let it in for a while,

and it’s warmer than I remember.