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Afterglow 

Amanda Silberling

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I’m best at believing the opposite
of truth. Let me show you: I was born
in a thunderstorm on a day
no one can remember. Too abstract
to document. Everything shook, a less natural
disaster. I built a home in the shadow of a body,
raised myself to learn why time never stops
moving so slowly. How only I can turn it
back. Waking up feels ten cents short.
I can slip down the drain like a fallen coin.
When I want to forget, I open other wounds
to heal my own. Not selfish, just unsewn.
Believe me. I need permission to touch
a nerve. Decide what has order, the morning
alarm or three meals a day. So many ways
to stay alive. Still calling home, a shadow,
another body hovering over me.