Laura Creste '13
Transcend, says the box of tea,
a promise or imperative I resent.
I thought I lived in my mind because
the body can be forgotten until it is called
into use. I remember when I could drink
without the headache.
I think there once was buoyancy.
Imagine the brain. Imagine
writing a poem without being in it. I
pretend the pills are growing
my skin and I won’t be raw nerved.
Tell me about the usefulness of pain.
Tell me we’ll be better for it.
The therapist wants me to talk
about my father but I say
that’s not what the story is about.