April 28.

The  moment I became invisible

I kept running to the front porch
to force air into my lungs
don’t ever tell me just breathe
all those years working three jobs
jangled my latitude nerves
maybe there was too much noise
in my head maybe one of my dials
flew off she thought we were alike
she had no idea how hard I tried
kept time to my interior metronome
I forgot to put vinegar in my potato
salad for Easter so sue me Jesus
I didn’t feel safe enough to tell her
how I felt about kale or Emily Dickinson
I wanted to stand in the square
and scream but I cried
instead and crammed
blueberries in my mouth as a hawk
battered a crow out of the sky