The Visit
The Other Bunny, June 12, 2023
water shoots
I spread my cold fingers
in the pocket
I would really like to draw again. I have a lot of ideas. But my fingers are restless and the scrawly lines hurt my eyes. My ego. How hard can it be to fill my cup?
I tell my therapist how joy is such a pain in the arse at times.
bare twigs
a tomtit headfirst
dangling
thinking
the yoyo of stars
in a cold field
At night I dream again of people I haven’t seen in a long time. We exist in the same space, create rifts I dare not even think about. Pain: the mainland I do not want to reach, but on which I stand.
Saturday morning. I find a handwritten note in the kitchen.
- buy rolls for …
- laundry
In my head I add
- clear out the dishwasher
- cut vegetables
- clean the rabbit cage
- buy snacks for the evening
- decide what to cook
- the kitchen floor is sticky
- finish knitting that sock
- write
- edit
- check deadlines
I know my mind will be tired before I have reached that kitchen floor. Maybe I will lie down on it and stay there.
My thoughts take a stroll on the moorlands.
two blackbirds
one black bird
no rustle
Plates into the open upper cupboard, cutlery into the drawer. I do not like these two options: either trying to avoid triggers or exposing myself to them over and over again. To prove to myself that I am stronger than I am.
I pull the compass out of my pocket and watch the needle dance tango and fandango. Cues from the sky: this is where it hurts.
frost pine needles even more
I swallow the treatment like a poisonous mushroom. I take it without any patience left. It says, “Wait.” When I am better, it still swallows my being. And sometimes I manage to stick my head out of its row of teeth, and whisper, “Please, don’t bite.”
pi & anne 