The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 2 | Page 7

4

it is my own repulsion

that curdles in my stomach

my family is full of

karma Houdinis

that slip from jail

cells

wriggling out of

charges and sentences

their shame is my own

carried in my lungs

like pond water

i drown in my sleep

in my dreams of

teeth and bones

my forehead leans

against the cool glass

of the mirror

streaked with

toothpaste spit

i wonder how

the shards of glass

would feel in my

palms

if the sting would

bring me out of this

trance

i still catch

traces of her

in my features

and i wonder

if her ghost

still lingers

and if she

knows

that i do not blame her