Monday, October 11, 2004

Milk Carton

I could have collected the tears I cried in a milk carton
A plastic bottle filled with salty water from an ocean much closer to me than the Pacific
Enough salt to kill the jungle of my front yard
I don’t know how to tell you what I learned about myself
How I can’t see myself or the world the same way anymore
I can’t see you the same way
My eyes are clearer now that the brine has been wiped away
I’m sorry I was closed to you and let my hurt seep through my skin and into yours
I have accepted it now and it will never poison me or you again, I promise—
The carton of tears ran over as I wrote that line.
The tears running down my face wash away my make up
Show my imperfections and remind me why I should wear waterproof mascara
But my eyes are beautiful when they are wet
They are vulnerable and green and wide open
Like my heart beneath its armor
You saw that heart once or twice behind my painted eyelids I’m sure
You always looked a little deeper.
So what do I do with this container filled with tears?
I’ll put it on a shelf under a window where the sun will suck away the water
And leave me the salt to season my scrambled eggs
Even bitter tears can be put to good use, right?
You would laugh at me for saying that, but you would be proud of me.
I’m proud of me, too.

1 Comments:

Blogger Brooks said...

I like this one a lot, especially the line about the scrambled eggs. I like scrambled eggs... with lots of salt.

Brooks Blog

11:35 PM  

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