"Where I'm From" by Felicity Haselton

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I'm from the closet where you left me when you were done. I looked for myself in motel rooms that were dark as wombs. I'm from secret spaces: behind the house where skunk cabbage blooms and the yellow tent full of earwigs.
I'm from the sky. I flew there, untethered.
I'm from wanting too much for my kids and giving them my blood and wondering where I went wrong.
I'm from running scared and hiding.
When I'm from away, other people slide in behind my face.

Gary Miller1 Comment