Rehabbing (April 18, 2007)

Rehabbing from my death wishes -
she says: what were you trying to do?

kill yourself.

I pause, stunned from the authority of it;
stunned on too much truth.

I don't think so.

that is to say - when my car rolled,
and flipped (in those few seconds
from living in control, to spinning
out of it) I did not think that those
bedaub seconds would be my last.

but I don't think so;

hanging upside down like a bat
baying at a dead moon. Shit-Mother-Fucker,
cursing from my lips because
like before I've stepped into this rhyme
once more.

Stepped into a totaled car on the side of the road;
into an ambulance giving my story away.
Except this time it's my fault.

But I've lived to stand another day;
Cat-like, on the second tier of her nine
near death experienced lives.

Rehabbing, from the shock - I haven't
eaten since Wednesday because I can't
keep anything down. And ten thousand
doctors poking and prodding -

are you pregnant?

rate your pain?

rate your rehabbing ambitions; the sobbing
emissions of vomit, with her mother sitting
in the chair beside her screaming: What were you
trying to do?

kill yourself.

II -
Before I was born my mother
was in a head on collision (19)
the same age that I was when I
had mine.

When I was a kid she told me
stories of seeing the pearly face
of god while she lay comatose
surrounded by her sisters for
over a week.

I was captivated.

When I was nineteen my mother
cried for me; haunted by histories
sourest tone of mother/daughter
magic and birthright. Our sins
shared by a vicious immortal
iconery.

She says that I should have died
both times - both sets of doctors
bowing to my stoic ER jokes -
your lucky. truly lucky to be alive
right now; they say.

She says that someone keeps sending
me back (not my time yet)

We've yelled about it.
We've cried about it.
We've both filled the silence of it
with enough noise to filter our differences
and fuse ourselves into a complicated
oval.

She says that someone keeps sending me
back for a reason. But I've always been
the type to be more determined to find out
who the hell wants me here, then staying and
finding out for myself.