I wrote in my diary about a demon
Which everyone assumed was me
Who could blame them
When it was me who birthed it
When my long nails took it off inside of me
What they never realized is the doubling effect
Of when you hurt yourself
And can hurt them too
Still they laid me out
And had their way with me
I kept insisting that the diary
Held all of the answers
Looking so forlorn and excitable
Pale and hungry for raw eggs and sugar
They wanted me just to sit there
And have it all done to me
But I got out of that pale blue dress
I took myself to the cemetery
I said, please please, Mother, I’m starving
Won’t you open that big heavy latch
Won’t you let me in

is the author of a dozen books of poetry and prose, including Mother (Wave Books). Currently, she lives in New York City and teaches at Columbia University School of the Arts.