She is only 11, i remind myself she
grabs my wrist to read my palm she
runs her fingers along the strange,
thin curvature of scars she
mistakes for life lines
grinning, shouts
"this one says
you are about to die"
the omen bounces off me
useless i am
always about to die
She lets momentum carry her
as children do she
runs her fingers down my wrist
to unmistakable, ordered
white ghosts of
past lives
"How
did you get these?"
A boy's jagged tooth rips
my lip so i rip into
myself i am
not there
There is
no good in me i
am trying to find it i am
digging it out of me it is
not there
She is wideeyed missing
several teeth missing
home
I owe her
An answer because?
she is me she is
tomboyish she is
relentless she is
hiding her fear
I do not lie
to children i was
lied to as
a child
"When i was your age
i was very unhappy
so i gave them
to myself"
"Why?"
"I was
unloved"
it hits her
in the stomach she
reels back but she
is poised she
is determined
to grow up
"How
did you do it?"
I am too young
to know when
to stop i am
Too Young
To Know Better i am
too young to want
like this but
i want
I can't
hold myself
without waking up
covered in
blood
She finds the thing
I cannot say as
children do she
pokes she
begs she
jumps she
wants
to run with
This sharp thing
so she
can prove she
is old enough
to hold it
My childhood
cuts away at her until
her face falls her
stomach hurts her
head splits
she is
going to throw up she
needs to go home she—
The nurse tells my mother something
is wrong with me i am
very sick i
need to go
where sick children go i
have not been good i
have been very bad it is
not a surprise i
have always known
Calls her mother in the
shadow of the school nurse her
mother worries
her mother
dotes on her
did you fall down?
was it hurting
this morning did
you eat enough did
you sleep well?
I want to tell her i
am sorry not
because i
am ashamed i
am unashamed but i
have shifted
something in her
which will never find
its place
because now
She is split
open into
a world in which
children are not
always loved
I open myself wide
so the nurses can help
me look they
wrap me up so tight i
cannot move i
learn to stay shut i
stop looking the
want
is not there i am
no longer a child
She looks at the nurse i
ache to tell her that it is
okay to ask
about children
like me it is okay i
am okay i
do not need her
to understand i
do not want her
to understand
I hand myself to her
simply, hilt first
but as always
the blade slips slices
open places
which heal back
scarred.