P s y c h o t h e r a p y
After Adelia Prado
i invent three nightmares for my therapist to decipher.
the first i’m eating a plate of boiled peanuts — inside
each a boy, winged + writhing + red, he writhes red
+ winged between my teeth. in the second my father
digs a hole in our backyard, i lay face down in the rain,
for a moment i’m mud covered, then an island, then a city
swallowed by flood. in the last + this is the most transparent,
i’m a pane of glass all the boys in my class press their lips
against before heading to war. i want my therapist to know,
i’m the glass + the war + the hole + the boiled.
i want him to stab at what’s bleeding just below the surface.
to reach down my throat + release me from inside
the locked safe. i want to look at myself in the mirror
without swallowing all my father’s heart medicine.about the author