Amy Saul-Zerby is the author of Deep Camouflage (Civil Coping Mechanisms) and Paper Flowers Imaginary Birds (Be About It Press). Her poems have appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Luna Luna Magazine, Yes Poetry, Spy Kids Review and Bedfellows Magazine. She is Editor-in-Chief of Voicemail Poems and a contributing writer at Fields Magazine and The Rumpus.
***
if you want to make it stop, then stop
some things you can’t confess
to your lover so you go
to see a therapist
some things you can’t confess
to your therapist
so you go to the basement
of a church
some things you can’t confess
to a room full of strangers
so you go to your empty bedroom
some things you can’t confess
to yourself & you know
where that leads, don’t you
what are the right words for
this kind of aching
this buzzing at the back
of the throat?
i thought if i said the right
words in a certain order
it would break a spell, but all
it did was burn a bridge
i thought burning a bridge
would break a spell
but all it did was cut a path
i thought if i could see
my way then i could
see my way out but i didn’t
have the strength
or maybe i didn’t believe
hard enough or maybe
i was afraid of what i thought
i’d be losing
i like to think i know
about emptiness
but there is always farther
to fall, & i have not run
out of bridges yet
but someday i will be
too tired to build them
& the church basement
will be flooded
& i won’t remember
how it got that way
or what it was that
i thought i needed
so badly to confess
