WHY
DID YOU DO THIS??

WHY DID YOU


DO THIS?

She screamed over and over and over and over
(and then some)
with the college postcard in hand,
filled out in sparkling pink Crayola

“I was only trying to help…”
I mouthed the words but they did not come out
as I coughed up water and breathed it into my lungs
and felt my eyes water with tears as my head bobbed above the chlorine,
arms and legs kicking, flailing, everything but swimming
until my father jumped in the pool and picked me up and brought me up on the cement.

I didn’t need the help
when I climbed into Tubey the Wonder Dog’s gall bladder
and stuck my legs through the skin of his abdomen
and floated across the deep end when no one was home.

The front right leg of the white plastic chair stood parallel to the dividing line between life and death,
shallow end and deep,
but I liked to dance on the dangerous side,
I liked to jump in the ocean despite the canyon wall created by the red flag waves
then grip the shore with my tiny hands
and feel the sand go under my nails
and into my mouth
as I yell for someone to get me out of here.

I was only trying to help,
“I am helping,” I sang as my pink Crayola spelled out the name
Miss Kate Houlihan
on the cardboard line
but I guess it wasn’t much help.

So instead I lay in between the bed and the heater
that makes noises at night
and bangs your foot in the morning,
under the bedskirt
covered in bears and dogs and bunnies for hours and hours and hours
(and then some)
till finally it’s safe to come out
and I’m the last survivor
in the post-apocalyptic world
where all the dinosaurs have exploded
from meteorites straight to the head,
no more screaming
IT’S ALL
YOUR
FAULT

IT’S
ALL
YOUR FAULT