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sometimes when i open my closet
pushing hefty bags off the tops of shoeboxes
pulling hangers from dresses to pants
looking at boxed up poetry- crammed tightly
scared to lose a phrase-where bitten pencils are
behind long amish-looking dresses
that hide knees-just for church-to rid the sin-
the plus size clothes premature-
dark to hide my shame of pale shades-of me-
dying the sky as evening shatters the afternoon

in colors scarves hunted in armpits
looped around my tongue
swallowed by the essence of wanting to feel young again
i am dreaming of muted beaches
sand gook on old nike flip-flops
running across melted dunes
i want to love myself
i have the right not to remain silent
get a whiff of chaos-even
tripping-where future resembles past-alive

i know my complaint-
and you can’t rape me anymore
you can't spit in my face and ask me for a rain check
you can’t take my hopes away from me
you can’t enslave me-
put back the shackles, now

-separating the sound

i will be slipping markers for refuge-
stopping wind with one finger- -now-
i am reclaiming items-
plugging corners with rat traps