Containing It
Containing It
The whole way down the subway steps she thinks of cutting herself.
As she mounts the train, she feels
flesh at her knuckles, the arm of an older black woman
pressed against her, her dark skin as cool and sweet and ineffably
unexpectedly soft as a cloud.
Still her mind finds out the fine lines
it imagines peeling back from her wrist or throat
like the cover
of an opening book.
Swaying with the crowd, she tries to force consciousness elsewhere.
How much she’d like some tea. Strong. Milky.
Except that maybe it’s all the tea that’s the problem; some chemical reaction–
Still she wants it.
Depression is the anger turned inward.
Just tell yourself you’re mad at him.
Just say that you do too blame him.
She wants the tea so much she can almost taste it,
only the tea leaves in her mind brew a briny
greyed puddle. She pictures the puddle in the country,
beneath a willow, behind a hedge, in the shadow of a stone wall.
It is a place that never gets much sun, a small triangle at quarter to noon.
The wall is made of hundreds of stones
joined simply by corresponding shape,
the weight of each other’s gravity,
a long time together.
Too bright outside. She steps around a man made of angles, his elbows knobs,
orange plastic cup for change, grey stubble, and next to him,
a smooth coffee-colored guy pushing a wire cart around the
sidewalk’s gutted pools. “Gillette,” he shouts. “Schick, Remington—”
She keeps her eyes down, keeps
walking, but she hears in the hawked
brand names the reflection of the men, the silvered packages,
the stacked blades.
Maybe if she just buys some.
Not to use.
To stare down at
in the dark rumple of paper bag.
It will be a dry brown bag, its lip folded and re-folded
until, finally, it assumes the softness
of flesh.
She imagines herself looking inside the bag repeatedly, hiding it,
unhiding it, curling it vaguely closed, uncurling
it into a weighted vacuity.
But maybe it will help.
To just buy some.
To look at only,
to look at in a soft brown bag.
*************************
This is not autobiographical! It is the revision of an older piece, which I am posting for dVerse Poet Pubs Poetics prompt on temptation, hosted by Mary Kling. I’ve been taking a bit of a blogging break to work on larger projects–though mainly I find myself catching up on a great deal of practical things. I am getting ready to really work on the big projects soon! (Ha.)
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: cutting poem, manicddaily, On Edge, Resisting depression, soft brown bag, Temptation poem
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ManicDDaily 
May 11, 2013 at 8:00 pm
Oh this is really intense, Karin. I could feel the draw…almost irresistible of cutting. Of depression. Of repeating….the pattern. Of buying it and having that brown paper bag.
May 11, 2013 at 8:02 pm
It’s not something (thankfully) I know the particulars about. But I can imagine that kind of depression. Thanks, Mary. k.
May 11, 2013 at 9:44 pm
I’m surprised to hear that you don’t know ‘the particulars”. I do, and you really touched those emotions.
May 11, 2013 at 8:05 pm
geez….def intense…i have known some cutters but this goes across that to all temptation…we feel ourselves taking these little baby steps…i can had it, i wont use it…it will just make me feel better…ugh…love the emphasis on touch early on and the feel of the ladies arm…
May 11, 2013 at 8:09 pm
Yes, it’s really about temptation–that thinking that an addiction can be controlled. k.
May 11, 2013 at 8:27 pm
Hmmm…pretty deep piece. I’d imagine just like the cutting itself…or the thinking of it…a story well told.
May 12, 2013 at 12:15 am
heck k. this is a fantastic piece…great emotional density and really love the images, esp. in the tea stanza…also the lips of the bags folded and re-folded until it assumes the softness of flesh…dang…awesome write on a tough topic
May 12, 2013 at 5:49 am
Thanks, Claudia.
May 12, 2013 at 12:53 am
you realize of course that the symbolism in the first line – mounting the train, and the symbolism in the last line – looking in the brown box…hmmmm….shall i go on??? LOL toooo kewl.
sexy hits the streets
May 12, 2013 at 1:17 am
deep and strong
May 12, 2013 at 1:28 am
Oh this is so strong, and certainly very real to many I think, Temptation to self destruction … and just to buy some blades to look at… (knowing were it would lead) like an alcoholist buying wine just to keep… Scary when we become slaves to the temptations. (and I love how you introduced the razors)
May 12, 2013 at 1:38 am
Striking contrast between her thoughts of tea and her thoughts of self-harm. As others have commented: intense.
May 12, 2013 at 5:12 am
To me this seems authentically imagined in that it gels with what I have read and heard from disturbed youngsters. A powerful piece that has a lot to say about contemporary society.
May 12, 2013 at 5:44 am
A wonderful poem, and so convincing that it’s scary..
May 12, 2013 at 7:18 am
There is an inner darkness in this that wraps its shadow around every word, a pall of that dead feeling inside which cries for some sort of red relief. Very fine work, k. I can’t imagine ever being there, but we all have our own puddles and brown paper bags, and the temptation to give in is always there.
May 12, 2013 at 7:31 am
Red relief is an incredibly good way of putting that type of thing. Thanks.
May 12, 2013 at 7:24 am
…creepy & haunting… sometimes curiosity is better shut off… smiles… best of lucks for the larger projects…
May 12, 2013 at 8:56 am
This piece has a quiet roar of intensity I will not soon forget, You deftly handle a tough subject, self-mutilation through & by way of a cutting addiction, that many would rather not even acknowledge exists ! another dangerous course that temptation unchecked can follow, fantastic write !! I wish you success on your larger projects !!
May 12, 2013 at 9:40 am
Thanks so much, Randy. k.
May 12, 2013 at 11:07 am
happy mothers day k…
smiles.
May 12, 2013 at 11:09 am
Ha. Thanks. I have to put up a more appropriate post! Appreciate your kindness, Brian. k.
On Sun, May 12, 2013 at 12:07 PM, ManicDDaily
May 12, 2013 at 2:42 pm
Oh my, I actually reacted physiologically to this one. Grateful to say this has never been my experience, but I had a friend who went through this and eventually died of bulimia. Just heart-rending and a very clear picture of the struggle that, I suppose, can be reduced to a common denominator if we just fill in our own personal demons. Whew!
May 12, 2013 at 5:06 pm
this truly saddened me because of friends that suffer like this, and want to bleed themselves outside themselves ~ Blessings k
May 13, 2013 at 1:07 am
very intense and well opens up the darkness of the feeling!