she dies at the end of "moulin rouge"
like in "the red shoes," and its protégé
"black swan," all the dancing, dreaming
femmes keeled over after giving the
performance of a lifetime, what are
we supposed to do with these stories,
now, huh?
success obsession, man
ipulative directors, tuberculosis
and the desire to be bought, no, buy
diamonds, diamonds, for life, for
life force, the blood of life will
stop, nor flow for no one how
terrified i was of bullets as a child
the fear someone close by would
shoot into the sky, and one would
come down landing on me, scoop
ing life from my very being and
leaving me breathless, my greatest
horror at the time, the fear of dying,
preyed on, again and again it is
don't go outside, don't talk to that
person, don't dance that way, it might
kill you and what about the men held
hostage in the synagogue in texas
and the woman who was pushed into
the subway in time's square, by an
unhoused person not tended to by
the government, ungoverned left
with illness, left without resources
reeling on whatever tip and ready
to shove, why why why why why
CANT WE SEE SOMETHING
ELSE i read the new york times
before bed and weep myself to
sleep knowing full well it's a
horrible idea, certainly no lullaby
here, even if i do make it to the
spelling bee, dorothy allison, in
this evening's talk tells us not to
lose our hope to live, disparaged
by the state of the world, how
dorothy, do you do it? delete
instagram, news once a week,
somehow enough money, lots
of kissing?
the panic attack i almost had
when i learned someone
"unfollowed me" an old friend
no longer wanting connection
my comments going unliked
as she "hearted" all the rest, it
sounds like simulacra, only this
is the smoke and mirrors reality
our consciousnesses are suffering
sense of worth pinged around like
a battered silver ball in a pinball
machine, pops of plastic showing
through the scratches.
Goddxss, I want a clean brain
Impossible!
Then at least to remember, I am
nothing if not of you, of Earth,
holy yet
Well, of course, you are!
And can you help me?
Hold onto that knowledge
in the throes of shame's warm
and terrifying blanket, adrenaline
surging and the funhouse trapdoor
bursting open?
Why yes, honey.
You say:
I am love,
I am light,
I am home,
I am safe.
That's all?
That's all.
It's true?
It's you.
Love you.
You too.
Bless you
Toodle-lo!
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