My brain says: 
Yesterday, when you were young 
everything you needed done was done for you. 
now you do it on your own 
but you find you're all alone 
what can you do? 
you and me 
walk on, walk on, walk on 
cause you can't go back now. 

I don’t make it so far before I am crying over the 
sweet Hawaiian roll sandwich I am folding 
choosing which sunny flower sticker to put on her lunch bag 
thinking I just want to sit down to dinner with my parents 
or something 
thinking I swear to god I was unpacking my lunch 
on a cafeteria table about a week and a half ago 
I don’t know where I am or how I got here and 
how old I am or if this is a really poorly run simulation 
I take a pill so my face doesn’t hurt and it makes me want to tell everyone I love them 
and I take two pills to make me go to sleep 
and I take three pills to kill the infection 
and I don’t eat even though I am always hungry 
my body keeps going. 

I set her lunch in the fridge 
and spend a moment crying on the floor 
just heaving it all out 
spitting tar and garbage onto the linoleum a bit 
wondering how often my neighbors hear me doing this
since I can hear Kim Kardashian on their TV sometimes 
I think they know I cry into my refrigerator, I’m not sure. 

I pad down the hall 
to press her door open and put my head inside just enough to see 
the only thing I know is completely real because 
there is nothing on this earth that is more real than 
the flesh I grew in my own body that
has now grown its own whole curious brain 
a nervous system and a big bowl of questions every day and 
I think that’s the only reason I keep playing along because 
she’s the only thing that feels really real to me 
the only thing I don’t want to blink next to 
cause if suddenly I teleport fifteen more years like last time 
I will be so goddamn fuckin’ mad that 
I didn’t get all those seconds holding her tiny face in my hands 
and telling her 
you are good you are good you are good.
Leah Boxley writes poetry and narrative nonfiction and, unfortunately, can’t stop herself. She co-founded and currently admins Blackwick Writers Guild based out of Boulder, Colorado, which fosters and supports LGBTQ+ writers of all genres and skill levels. She lives in Columbus, Ohio with her daughter, Emma, who is the coolest thing she’s ever made.
header: Pure Julia via Unsplash