Where I'm From

I am from leashes

from the Lysol and Febreze

only one person has.

I am from leaves

like zippers

that could only zip down

over by the yellow handles.

I am from chocolate milk and guitars,

            from Disney on New Year’s with the dogs.

I am from beds with hiding spots

            with animal cracker curtains and my sisters’ toys.

From the crannies too small to be hidden in.

I’m from movies with swords and spears,

            and 90s boy bands’ songs

            with words my sisters made me know.

I’m from Wawa and Hoy’s,

the good shops left untouched

by the encroaching clothing industry.

And the old ones that have been touched,

touched and broken and replaced

by the encroaching clothing industry.

I am from the beauty of pain,

the masochistic beauty in death

and blizzards that turn trees into their own catacombs.

I am from staying up at night

feeling the pain I had no business feeling.

I am from dry spells where I say I’m happy

and jump to the worst of all conclusions.

And I am from happy solitude, truly happy.

I am from blaming scapegoats and forgiving them

because it’s cathartic if I can love the scapegoat

and myself, too.