11
Three Poems by cynthia blank
Limb by limb
1
I pick myself
apart, limb by limb.
I pick the scabs
almost healed.
A good woman
doesn't keep another
man in her head.
A good daughter
doesn't run
away from home.
Good, I'm not.
2
My fantasy of him
exists close
to the sea.
There is a golden
shadow on the water
and my skin washes
into the sand.
My reality of you
is inside that water.
Limbs whole
and glistening. Sinking,
but not quite.
3
Your sister's pregnant
my mother says.
My sister's pregnant
I repeat to you. (Cont.)
I am looking down
on a waterfall
and beginning to feel
far away.
Everything starts to drip. Slowly,
I understand it is my fault.