This is How I Own You

I know something is broken and i’m trying to fix it/trying to repair it/anyway I can
-Coldplay

When a room full of poets drop their guard
and start sharing their truth- the marrow that
poisons the blood, the brain that betrays,
the shakes, the nameless fear that lives in the
back of the throat- you drop your pretenses
and get real.
Get real by letting go. By saying it out loud–
I am not a burden. I am a cluster of neurons
that like to tripwire, I have no say in this.
That does not change the truth– I am a maker
of star magic. I am science defied. I am working
overtime to compensate for the dead space
in this skull, I make this shit look seamless.
I make hospital gowns look runway ready,
make leg spasms look like a choreographed dance,
the music all my own.

The Disability Joke

 

The Disability Joke
After Patricia Lockwood

The disability joke is that you were travelling alone,
travelling halfway across the country for the first time.

The joke is this was a lot of firsts for you—first train ride, first time travelling across time zones, first time travelling without a trained seizure companion.

The disability joke is that you felt really free.

The joke is you were taking a train because you would not fly without your husband, and you could not find a dog sitter, so your husband stayed home with the dog so you took a thirty hour train.

The disability joke is that you have epilepsy.  You’ve had a brain surgery and traumatic brain injury resulting in partial blindness.  You also have aphasia, which is the same as words being locked in your head, which, if you are a poet, is the same as running in circles drunk.  The joke is your stubborn pride, who will not allow you to get a blind cane, even though that would unlock a world of questions you would not need to answer anymore.

The joke gets funnier when you buy a ‘disability ticket’ for your train ride and find out it is not good for anything.