Poem by Bethany Doak
I am mountain-high
strong fierce wild
I am wind-burnt cheeks,
icicle eyelashes, too
high
too high? I wander
up up up
but it’s—cannot breathe—high
so
I/we take the medicine
more MORE
too much!
till I spin
down drown
fast rush
hurry
down
don’t crash!
hurry
I will
wilt,
falter,
spiral,
droop
when I get to the edge
there’s no bottom
sink
so we binge
the world until we’re sick
or we only drink enough
to get us back
(safely)
You know, there are three of us now?
- the high one (mad / thirsty / stubborn / frustrated / the one asking why? why? why am I high?)
- the low one (drunk / crazy / can’t cope / can’t think / can’t be a parent or responsible person because I’m low headache low)
and that other one who’s finally
ready for the day
weary from the night
- the functioning – in range – happy-lucky- I counted everything up right got the dose right and absorbed it right not worried about tomorrow or likely later mishaps – one
checking, always
checking for the reasons why
answering the question
hoping we guessed right
going up again now
going down
never steady while always wanting
while not wanting something
what’s not right?
will you
keep me healthy?
will you keep me sane?
