WHAT'S LEFT WHEN YOU STRIP IT ALL AWAY, BY RAINA K. PUELS |
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when i slouch naked on my couch my nipples reach my bellybutton all three pierced over a decade ago remember being a late teen & thinking you were an adult? i ask a friend & we laugh my therapist agrees i was a child until i was twenty-three he talks to me about me in third-person how does Raina feel about her sobriety? Raina is unnumb raw to the needle of her knowing that not saying no never saying no is a violence she does to herself now Raina tries to be a Good Girl & use her words to communicate Raina wants _________. Raina doesn’t want _________. Raina dommes herself silly into completing CBT worksheets chipping away at not ever feeling Good Enough a core belief as rotten as the fruit skeletons child Raina forgot in the back of her mother’s car hands sticky with apples & plums when baby Raina cried for no reason her mother would strip off her clothes place her in the kitchen sink run water over her belly & dimpled legs the upset evaporating as Raina splashed now as a Good Adult Raina knows she could disappear the hurt with a spliff recede into the deepest pits of dissociation’s familiar hush & avoid showering for weeks but no Raina doesn’t do that anymore instead she plucks the black hairs below her bellybutton collects them into a tidy pile & then blows it away knowing she will be the one to sweep the floor |
Raina K. Puels is a queer/poly Boston-based writer, educator, and kinkster. She holds an MFA from Emerson College and reads poems for Split Lip Mag. You can find her writing published or forthcoming in The Rumpus, PANK, Dream Pop, and many other places listed her website: rainakpuels.com. Follow her on Twitter: @rainakpuels.