sixth grade:
i hid my monsters
in the closet
at the back of the trailer
that was our classroom
it had once been a bathroom,
when the trailer had once been a home,
but now it was a storage area
filled with stacks of papers
and books
and the sort of office supplies
that only teachers kept
i was wedged in that closet
hiding from the monsters
in the classroom:
the children who thought it was funny
to make me melt down
to watch me explode
to wind me up until
i couldn’t hold in the fury
anymore
once there was a day
that the closet couldn’t hold me
i couldn’t get into it in time
and instead i burst forth
out of the trailer
into the wilderness
a friend laughed at me
through a window
or maybe he didn’t
maybe he just looked
was it empathy or pity?
amusement or bemusement?
i cried out: “don’t look at me”
my clenched fist punched the window
pieces of glass lodged in my hand
jagged jigsaw puzzle pieces
covered in blood
but puzzle pieces fit in somewhere
and i
never
have
04.01.24