Through the thrasing bars of July

After July

Today July told me that nothing bad happened. No records to prove different.
To be continued.



After July Part Two


And sometimes I'll stare across
Perched at the edge of the toilet,
Or cross legged, knees pushing to the floor
Hips aching.
Stare at a plastic moulding
Riding its contours and the shading
without even meaning to.
I scan the depths and recessions in the wall across
as if it were your face.
Each time, a heaviness in my features
My bottom lip drops down, down
and teeth push forward
Sensation from the corners of my eyes to my tongue
My tongue doubling in size.
Reactions not provoked,
for if I wanted provocation I would turn to the mirror.
This wall in the bathroom
This plastic liner provides more honesty
to how you would see me.
And I too can see myself more clearly in this
than in any gleaming or spotted glass.
My chest thrusts its air, compactable
towards the figure, whatever it may be.
This is our first meeting since.
This is my hello.
a moment boxed and put away.

Incidental note* I wrote part two while at my parents house in my old bedroom. When feeling uninspired to write a title, I often just use the month in which the piece is written within the 'title' (or what I save it under). This time I noticed that I had a saved file titled 'after july'. So being the sometimes lazy girl I am, I saved this file as 'after july part two'. Curious, I opened the original 'after july' file and was amused at the combination of the two, and the cyclical nature of it all.

Love Casie