The Sun and Her Flowers. Белые стихи, от которых распускаются цветы

fruit flies. webs. bugs.
someone call the plumber
my stomach is backed up – i’ve been vomiting since
call the electrician
my eyes won’t light up
call the cleaners to wash me up and hang me to dry

when you broke into my home
it never felt like mine again
i can’t even let a lover in without getting sick
i lose sleep after the first date
lose my appetite
become more bone and less skin
forget to breathe
every night my bedroom becomes a psych ward
where panic attacks turn men
into doctors to keep me calm
every lover who touches me – feels like you
their fingers – you
mouths – you
until they’re not the ones
on top of me anymore – it’s you

and i am so tired
of doing things your way
– it isn’t working
i’ve spent years trying to figure out
how i could have stopped it
but the sun can’t stop the storm from coming
the tree can’t stop the ax
i can’t blame myself for having a hole
the size of your manhood in my chest anymore
it’s too heavy to carry your guilt – i’m setting it down
i’m tired of decorating this place with your shame
as if it belongs to me
it’s too much to walk around with
what your hands have done
if it’s not my hands that have done it

the truth comes to me suddenly – after years of rain
the truth comes like sunlight
pouring through an open window
it takes a long time to get here
but it all comes full circle
it takes a broken person to come searching
for meaning between my legs
it takes a complete. whole. perfectly designed
person to survive it
it takes monsters to steal souls
and fighters to reclaim them
this home is what i came into this world with
was the first home
will be the last home
you can’t take it
there is no space for you
no welcome mat
no extra bedrooms
i’m opening all the windows
airing it out
putting flowers in a vase
in the middle of the kitchen table
lighting a candle
loading the dishwasher with all of my thoughts
until they’re spotless
scrubbing the countertops
and then
i plan to step into the bathtub
wash yesterday out of my hair
decorate my body in gold
put music on
sit back
put my feet up
and enjoy
this typical thursday afternoon

дом

я помню лишь, что этот день был обычным четвергом.
солнечный зайчик поцеловал мои веки – с добрым утром.
я точно помню,
что, вскочив с постели,
сделала себе кофе под крики детей на улице,
включила музыку,
загрузила посудомоечную машину.
помню, что поставила цветы в вазу
на кухонном столе.
и лишь когда квартира стала безупречно чистой,
отправилась в ванную.
там я смыла с волос вчерашний день
и принялась себя украшать,
как украшают картинами и фотографиями
стены дома и книжные полки.
я повесила на шею ожерелье,
надела серьги,
подкрасила губы,
зачесала волосы назад – обычный для меня четверг.

мы были на вечеринке с друзьями,
и по ее окончании ты спросил, можно ли подвезти меня домой.