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UNNAMED POEM 1
I sat, crying in bed
she sat in the garden in the front yard
eighteen years ago
I look at where I am now
versus all her potential,
all her hopes,
& I am disappointed
I have not made her proud,
I have not made myself proud
– she doesn’t deserve this
she is young, innocent,
no one has told her yet how things will feel
when she grows up & how desperately she will want to
get away; she pictures it being fun
like a better version of being a child
but she doesn’t know how sad & desperate it will be sometimes
I am so dark, & I am so light
& I hope one day it will feel better but even if
the moments still pull their punches
I have made it this far; I can make it through
I whisper the words back into the past;
she is playing in the yard still in Wisconsin
the words from the future are whispered to her in the wind:
“I deserve better than this”
& in the circular melisma of time
I cannot say whether hearing this is what gave her the knowledge then
that she should be worth more,
or if she nodded
having known this already all along