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Eden Robinson, “Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted”

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i used to wish on mays and mights

but they chewed through the wood

i put in the entrance of my room

to keep out the unwanted

i left it there, to rot with time

and gradually i followed suit

a tie around my neck and a button on the ground

i scooped it from its misplace and nestled it in the readings of my palms

a scissor guided by my hands

never cut a page straight

i kept my secrets written on the off cuts

stashed in jars and stitched shut

i woke up this morning gnawing through the wood

splinters slicing through my gums

i thought i was safe in here

my own fingertips wrote my fate

i can’t meet with your eyes

i would never allow myself to

not as long as i have photographs to take

and seal away with wax and twine

they crawl from beneath the frame

of a picture i want you to see

my back bare, untouched and raw

and with my very sword they begin to trace my spine

i can still feel your hands running along my back

i feel a guilt that i won’t let you see

0422

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280122

i can taste the feeling again when i cry

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chester, 2019

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Trista Mateer, "Baggage", from Honeybee

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june

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i want to remove every trace of my known identity and reconstruct it to be how i wish to be perceived, likened to that of the idea of myself in my head

and i’ll be taking every metric known to renew

0721

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ovine

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when did you leash me and tie me to this post?

i awoke, eyes heavy, playing your obedient hound

which wrong did i take to be domesticated so fraudulently?

unaware that sacrifice was a canine trait i must adhere to,

i licked the taste of an unsuccessful hunt off my lips

episodic memory

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when was the chance to opt out? did i miss it?

by accident, surely, or maybe i’m just too patient

i make a tug at the chain, yet all that calls back is the sharp ringing of metal

i’m surprised you ever look this way at all

i fear you only fluff my fur to make a show dog out of me,

you know i’m not one to bark

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i flinch with the raising of your hand,

but nothing more

i’d run if i was able to, i’m sure you’ve come to realise

yet tied to this post i stay, loyal and complacent

hoping one day, maybe

you’ll forget to tighten the chain

1221

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drop a quarter in my firefly-swear jar

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its not pain, though it is like needles - lots of little ones in my chest.

it doesn’t hurt, i welcome it with quite excitement

i don’t know when it’ll happen, i can’t forsee the next occurrence

but it happens every time, and i know that much

i think this time perhaps, it is good

so i wait for it to happen again

and again

& again

:)

0921

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134 days from today

260721

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i wonder if you’ve thrown out the shirt i made you

260721

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i had told myself at least thrice prior to take hold of the reins, to really feel the words which i wrote. until really living, they had no substance or depth. just alphabet soup in a banquet of forged memories. as much as i wanted to live in ignorance of it all, i had to pay some gratitude, at least, for fuelling my artistic pursuits. i jest, yet only in a subtle manner which slips by the tongue ever so slightly, so as to not seem too far from the truth

0521

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Inventory for Spring by Wendy Xu