I’d Forgive You If I Could Do It Without Hurting Myself

by Lucy Bishop

Each time I try to speak, the urge to shout about the past rumbles
in the back of my throat, growling
Pacing like a tiger in a shrinking cage
Trying to compensate, a sort of mental pissing contest between myself and myself.
I am going to die in this body
And it is not even mine
I’m at a restaurant and the waitress
She’s pretty
She asks for my order
I want to tell her about the time I vomited in a neon 7-Eleven and a cockroach the size of my fist
drowned in the mess and how
Part of me is always screaming because along the way,
Somewhere in that puddle of bile and grime
I think I gave up something that might’ve been important
But I can’t remember what it was and
We all vanish over the years and
I am trying to vanish so fast
No one would think I was ever here at all
But each step I take leaves scorch marks
My boots are burning
They are the only part of me that can be angry without hurting someone
&&&&&&&&&I only wear them on Sundays
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&I am hardly ever angry at all
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&Six days out of the week.

Lucy Bishop  

Lucy Bishop is an undergraduate student at the University of Oregon. She writes poetry between classes in fractured pieces that come together every few months.

Artist: Lucy Litman
Words: Juansen Dizon





Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: