Day One

My god, who are you
that science cannot explain?

It must be hereditary—wanting
to become an alcoholic who writes

her way outside her own skin. I got what I wanted—
a place no longer safe where no one’s sacred.

Will not get behind
the wheel. I’ve wanted to get lost,

wanted to be invisible, to pretend to be
asleep in the middle of a crowded room.

What are they saying
about me now that I’m dead?

Cause of death. Cause of birth
doesn’t get recorded or certified.

If I can be sober,
what then?

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