I.
A woman
like a swallow’s throat
not curled up
but slumped
suicidal gestures
always take
too much energy
and crash upon
the wrong ears
this time
your own heard
too much
shoulders and tires
slashed
your own throat
against the sun
face up and scream
II.
Death finishes the job every time
but it’s the slaughter and carnage of love
that wounds us beyond repair
readies us
for the kill shot
if you breathe you break
even tepid emotion
can fracture you
every face we love and let linger
love and let loom large
in our lives
perforates our hearts
setting us up
for the tear
no one leaves this world
with the same heart
they arrived with
III.
here I am again
accelerating my life
head on
toward Death’s Siren song
here I am once more
falling
through the doors
and smiling
because I’m not dead
testing the boundary of breath
sizing up Death
with a foot in my grave
we acknowledge and wave
we’ll meet again soon
when I shoot for the moon
we’ll meet again soon
like long lost friends
we’ll meet again soon
the end of my end
IV.
I am not myself today
is everyday
there is no mirror
to lead me there
I wouldn’t recognize
my face
in a drug-free place
without the pills and the haze
protecting my days
I wonder who I am
when my blood is free
I wonder who I am
with my brain scrubbed clean
still there is no reason
to lead me there
my emotional sunscreen
keeps the burns at bay
the sun is my friend
the people are they rays
deflected, rejected
by the pills and the haze
V.
i love to pour
a full bottle of pills
into my steady hand
and just stare
cupping death
cradling devastation
but the wreckage
is not nearly my own
so i gently guide
every potential killer
back to where they belong
and seal them in tight
VI.
Tonight I believe
there are no self-made sinners
it’s the denial of love
that strangles a conscience
goodness can be murdered
just a evil can be nurtured
and groomed
we are all victims
and every victim
was once a perpetrator
and every perpetrator
was once a child
there are no clean hands
in this world
we should all be pointing
dirty fingers
toward one another
Bekah Steimel lives in St. Louis, Missouri (USA) and is working on a first collection of poetry, chronicling one lesbian’s struggles with addiction, fidelity, mental illness, and mortality. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Diverse Arts Project, Full of Crow, Gutter Eloquence, Milk Sugar, Mused, RiverLit, and Sinister Wisdom. Visit her website for more.