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2024/2025

And I’m not sure

how to say it–

Do you remember

the darkness, the one I thought was eating me?

How do I tell you

it was me all along.

And when I let it consume me

the darkness did not overcome,

but

assimilated.

As though it’s a layer of me now, like the

mesoderm or

hypodermis—

How I’m made up, it’s made up of me.

Now people tell me things, secret things,

and let me see old cracks and broken things,

and I wonder if they know how secret their secrets are with me.

Because I do understand

and welcome their cracked and broken parts to my breast.

I think for a moment they have a home with me, and that helps a person breathe.

What I want to say is, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore—

all things need a home, even she.