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I imagine Her
Not so hard, really
The one I’m constantly trying to forget
She incessantly sticks at my side
I imagine Her
Upon walking into a dinner party
Oh, the 13th Sister
Oh, the one who wasn’t invited
.
They’re embarrassed by Her
Nervous, prim and proper
Unable, really, to relax
Attuned to all the feels of the room
All the unattended forgotten ones
She fidgets, She fidgets
Short of breath and internally gasping for
Escape
But she stays
.
She stays
And she pulls out her measuring cups
Right there at the table
And she pulls out her calculator
Disturbing the frilly napkin
And she begins to tally the foods for possible consumption
This, this eases Her
This, this somehow distracts Her from the
Intensities of the unspoken she rides
.
She’s cleared off a part of the setting
She’s got her cups weighing
She’s got her numbers, calculating
She’s taking up space
Writing it all down
Before it goes inside
Somehow
This keeps it all in order
Somehow this keeps it all in order
.
I imagine me, looking at Her
And wishing She wasn’t here, at the party
Knowing, everyone knowing She’s here with me
They stare at Her, and I, unsettled
Some even trying to tutor
Encouraging discretion
But still She counts,
Still She levels
The mashed potatoes
So the surface aligns precisely
And only then plops it onto
Her plate
She’s still deciding whether she’ll actually
Eat
She knows
How to push it all around
Pretending
.
I hate Her
I wish she never existed
I wish she’d stop following me
And learn to chill out
I wish she’d know
How to laugh and eat and play
Choosing, tasting, adventuring
Like everyone else in the room
That she’d have other interests
Than the next meal, the next amount
The next possible poisoning
The next protective
Ritual
That she’d be led by her hunger
And quelled by her fullness
That she’d speak with wisecrack
At the lurking phantoms swirling
Around the table
Changing the field
Trusting Herself
And not just trying to hold It all together
Until It no longer breathes
.
She haunts me
And I’d rather not go anywhere
Meals solitary, inside
Appeasing Her
Than to continually risk
The shame I feel
When she’s seen
When I’m seen,
With Her
.
But She, cups clanging
And numbers whirring
Doesn’t seem to really care
She just knows she’s got to survive
This madness
She does what needs doing
To keep us from drowning
In a culture, externally, showing no other way
In a culture, introjected, systematically brainwashed
And I stare at Her
Eyes focused and uninterested in small talk
And I begin to see Her
And what she’s doing
And start to understand
How she helps
How she is helping
Until the scene shifts
Until the evolved tools present
She’s holding out
For nothing less than The Truth
And I start to see Her
And I start to see
Me
.
I say to myself, watching me
This crazed laced-up alchemist madwoman
Desperately trying to keep us in order
So we don’t just lose it in a world
Of no holding
I say to Her, myself
That’s pretty epic
In its own strange way
And I begin to accept Her, me
Seeing how She helps
Seeing how She’s needed
Now
And I see Her
And I start
To maybe
To maybe someday
To maybe possibly
To maybe someday possibly
Begin
To love Her
.
Thanks for reading! This poem came from the following prompt–perhaps it will wet your whistle too?
What parts of yourself would you not take to dinner? What parts of yourself would you want to leave at home?
Letting Go 