Published in the January 2002 issue of
MiPo.
I, Theresa, After Thorazine And You
I can no longer feel the song
of your tongue on my mouth,
your hands soft on my back.
Just a straight pin
stuck in my heart.
Through the window I watch
the moon devour my car--
once a boy painted me swimming.
That was before
I ate to break the sadness,
before I broke the veins
in my arm.
Tonight the walls are black cliffs
and I am underwater,
trying to swim in your fingers,
but your hands moved away.
©Tasha Klein 2001
