Self-Assessment
after Molly Brodak
Fear, or a steel jaw underbrush. Love, or
the undeniable urge to touch flesh
to flame. I am nothing
if not searching for more. More, meaning
the weight I am capable of carrying. The boundaries
I constantly test. The limits I have not reached.
A body is mainly something to strain
against. If I have learned anything
it is the surety needed to walk the tightrope
of selfhood. It is to disappear
the net beneath me. I remain
unbound. When I ask for help, I take
its gentle denial as permission
to make a bed with the worst of myself.
The worst of myself being made entirely of guilt.
Guilt, or the heft of a hand wrapped around a
throat. A, meaning my. I learned, or
was taught what it meant to be a burden.
A mouth to feed. A love to bear. Now, I am unlearning
how I shaped myself as result. Dizzying the world
in the search for distance. An upturned wrist. A voice
pitched high. The edges of life softening
into something like a cradle. A basin holding no
reflection. Help, a way out, or through.
I no longer ask a question
if I am scared to hear the answer.
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