On Leaving The House That Was Not My Home

On Leaving The House That Was Not My Home

The heat of August squeezed my lungs, it filled them with pollen and diet hope

When I press my arm to my body, the water pools in every crevice, reminding me that I can seal life in between my folds and winding roads

My hip stretches, you’ve taken a wrong turn

Dust, filtering light, uncleanliness, dust, brain rot, mildew, dust, heat, gently blowing fan, bad water pressure, dust, never clean enough, a scream trapped in my old bed, dust

My mattress slanted to the left from the heaviness in my heart

It slants to the right now, morality

Truth, justice

I’m far away, their poison cannot get to me now

My mother’s trauma is thick like tar, motor oil, egg yolk and feathers, the joke was on no one and the laughing was so hollow

I couldn’t save them, I had to make my own way

I will build this, and it will shine and be so beautiful, and finally I can bring her to a real home

Somehow I always knew I’d never been given a fair shake, but it’s never stopped me

Nothing can, always forward

Forward despite everything that ways to tear you screaming back 

Forward for yourself, your healed heart shining on the horizon

I squint, it looks just like the sun.

Alex Taggart

Continue reading