"Stomach Ache" by Samantha Moe
Stomach Ache
My ex-girlfriend / best friend / worst enemy
is asking me again how I’m doing, like
none of it ever happened. She wants to
check-in
I call it checking in on the trauma
lift the lid a little to see
if there’s fester
wound
should we clean the hot pot
full of the past
should I learn to forgive?
I don’t know how to be kind
the damage was the damage is damaging
I spend weeks trying to figure out how to talk
it out
therapist asks what I mean by “the stuff”
I tell her “things”
meaning whatever, gutter, gum-snap,
yanked an earring out of my ear
blood / woods / deer / no one asked
Are you okay?
doesn’t matter, it’s late hours, too midnight
to do our little check-in, ex / friend / lover
is telling me we can marry later
after I’ve fixed myself
I’m too young to be this fed up
the men live their normal lives with
some of the women who were present
some have new women
these women lie for them
these men lie to the women
I am erased, as is the pond, the deer, the farm
maybe you don’t remember the grass so tall
like cattails, your converse sneakers, dirt
I have problems with my jaw
she tells me it’s fine
high time we meet again
for a glass of wine
but when the day comes, we’re both scared
to face what happened, to give the haunting
context, to give the boys who turned into men
language
I’m not one for caring
I’m not into sharing
what happened, happened
What happened?
Her horses have died
she is free from the house
no more shame
only memories
she builds her new life in the ocean
says goodbye to the trees
I keep some of her letters from the sea
the rest I tear to shreds
I cook language in tiny pots on the stove
hundreds of coils, expensive induction-stove
kitchenware, R for Right this wrong, H is for
How did this happen to me
we talk but don’t meet up
it happened again / again / again / again
Photo Credit: Staff