closets

Skin’s the least of me. – Theodore Roethke

..

it’s not easy to hacksaw a secret
into 206 splinter-marrowed pieces,

but she’s no stranger to per
…………………………………-severance,

naming each scrimshaw syllable
ulna,
tarsal,

scapula,
mandible.

there’s a word for all this swallowed
sorrow, perhaps;
one no one knows.

 

 

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5 Responses to closets

  1. Jean says:

    Unreal, girl. This is SO good.

    I really love that you lowercased your title, subtly making it say “small closets.” ~Especially since there are so many skeletons to hide in there that the door keeps busting open and letting all your secrets fall out.

    That quote is quite amazingly true. The way we present ourselves on the outside is really just not our selviest selves.

    “but she’s no stranger to per
    …………………………………-severance” Brilliant. Cutting off her “purr” and “peer” and also “peer(s)” … maybe even “purse.”

    Love: “naming each scrimshaw syllable”

    “there’s a word for all this swallowed
    sorrow” … Hey, weren’t we just texting about this topic earlier? 🙂

    The way you split “per-severance” makes me think of this:
    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseveration

    It almost makes me think that you’re the only one repeatedly going back to your closet. Everyone else has forgotten about it and moved on. But you can’t let it go, even though the moment has passed for obsessing over it.

    • whimsygizmo says:

      Thanks, chica.
      Wow, I had never heard of “perseveration.” Goodness. The world is just too much.

      The word “scrimshaw” would not leave me alone today. This is where it landed. 😉

      • Jean says:

        I hadn’t either, until we met me that child psychologist last summer. She kept talking about people being attacked by perseverative thought, which causes extreme anxiety…obviously. So any negative thought just sort of plays in your head, over and over and over, and you just can’t get rid of it.

      • whimsygizmo says:

        I betcha my Zack has a touch of this. Sigh.

  2. How sad. To hold all that sorrow in our bones, but many people do. Inside, where no one would guess.

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