Wild as Her

She never wanted to be white picket fenced in

How did you know? 

When the body experiences trauma,

It will often block out the offending memories.

When something triggers such a memory-

Did this really happen, or was it my imagination? 

All of it was real, sister.

Not all of it was bad. 

I met a boy, who felt like home,

underneath the Festival Tree.

He challenged me, and he scared me,

and he left me, and he came back,

more than once. 

We are not the same, but he has scars 

a lot like mine,

and he’s terrified, just like me.

When I close my eyes I see his

on the back of my eyelids,

but in another lifetime. 

In this one he is a cold, hard trigger. 

He triggered in me sweet memories

of the woman I wanted to be when I was 17.

Driving a beater pickup truck, 

boots with sunflowers on them, 

playing Jason Aldean with the windows down,

speakers so pressed I knew they would blow. 

It took me so long to find her,

and I don’t think I could have without him. 

32 isn’t too late and the ghost of me

can ride shotgun and hold my beer.

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Cover photo by Bernadetta Watts