I usually do not write poetry and when I do it stays, safely tucked, deep in the corners of my journal. But I do like poetry. I love reading poetry, currently Matthew Dickman is my favorite poet. If you would like, here is a link for one of my favorites:
But please read mine first, because I cannot compete with Mr. Dickman. I wrote this my senior year in college and recently rediscovered it when I was perusing an old journal of mine like an old narcissist. Well young narcissist. But a narcissist–that’s the point. Here it is. Be kind.
Yogic Cherry Life Savers
During Yoga today Pam put her hand on my shoulder,
and asked if I was okay.
She had been on the other side of the room. Teaching
a newbie how to downward dog. But
I am giving off a vibe.
This dark, damp, desperate,
I am dying inside vibe.
So she puts her hand on my shoulder,
Like a Life Saver–a cherry flavored,
red looped Life Saver.
But I can’t handle the sweetness.
So I ignore it.
Because, well, it would be nice to drown
without a fuss.
And because my body would still be here
it’s like cheating.
Cheating at suicide.
My wrists are in tact, I like them.
I won’t cut them, swallow anything, hang anything,
or shoot anything.
It’s an easy promise to keep.
I just don’t want a Life Saver.