Poem 6/30 - The Year of Your Betrayal

This entry was born from the kick-ass writing prompt by Rachel McKibbens http://rachelmckibbens.blogspot.com/2011/04/writing-exercise-28.html

in which she references an Anne Sexton poem, For the Year of the Insane,

http://www.glastonberrygrove.net/reference/annesexton/poems/insane.html

Try it if you dare. I lost my "final" draft which turned out not to be final after all.

The Year of Your Betrayal

We fucked for the first time on an autumn afternoon.
Six days later, on Halloween Eve, I enrolled in motorcycle
safety school and fell off the bike three times.

I have never fully regained my sense of balance.

Purple eggplants faded from my legs.
I didn’t know why they still hurt, or why I always
dreamt of trapeze dancers, tightrope walkers

Trampolines

Scars preserved like apricots
Steaks and sherbet left untouched

New Year’s passed, and I watched you lace
your new black shoes, despite the snow

I can’t imagine what else I thought might happen.

Unsafe on wheels, I walked miles without memory

Down South Street, across East Broadway,
anywhere we’ve never been, returning
to where I never was, searching
for that moment before I clutched
too hard and fell and fell and fell

On a morning without wind, I climbed a hill
in Corona Park, borrowed an old bicycle
and flew down to the bottom.

Then I did it again and went home.

There was no shade on Water Street.

I stood on one leg, like a crane, waiting for the elevator.

I felt a little bit purple, but nothing hurt.

© puma perl, 4/6/11