4/29/2010 - Edges

This morning I remembered the harsh edges of my dream.
There were checkered flannels, red t-shirts,
and some kind of clock just ticking.
All of my shirts had holes,
just between the shoulder blades.
As if I'd finally grown my wings.

You pushed me down the stairs while I was doing laundry.
I remember the sound of my bones,
cracking as I hit each step.

Snap, crackle, pop,
like a meat sack full of rice crispy treats.

The feeling of blood dripping between my eyes,
down my neck, between my breasts.
Seeing my bones exposed so easily.
The strangest of all,
I wasn't angry over being pushed down the stairs,
or breaking every bone in my body.
I was pissed that I had to redo the laundry.