Dear Lupus
What is the compromise we make with reality to make this bearable?
—an unnamed man quoted by Polly Atkins in Some of Us Just Fall
In our first throes together you mule-kicked my head.
When I thought you'd gone you reappeared,
fire at my fingertips that raced up my arms,
down my legs, zipped along every nerve channel,
caromed and rebounded and ricocheted.
You were neuroelectric spasms,
a confused orchestra of biological alarms.That summer, sinking, I remained at your mercy.
I drifted through Shark Week,
wake-dreamed great whites, tigers, bulls and hammerheads,
imagined hunger. Even that you stole from me.
The fishing industry takes fins from sharks,
dorsal, caudal, lateral,
like you took my arms and legs,
leaves them to drown. Fin.
For a summer, you culled me.When did I realize we were meant to be?
We were supposed to be at dinner.
You pinned me down, kept me from the family table,
told me it would be worse if I moved.
I rose anyway. I told you no.
I ate little, but smiled
as you tore at my knees,
tugged at my hands, howled.It's said that we all contain two wolves,
good and evil. The one we feed will guide us.
But you are neither good nor bad.
You are not even a wolf, although you bark
and cry to be heard. If I don't stop to listen,
no one will. But also—if I don't live my life,
no one will. Let us compromise.
In truth, we are one
in chronicity.
