i was the cartwheel kid
happy birthday ballerina
it was eight that year
i wore barrettes
i remember that much
my hair was long and heavy
and i read
but i could never
get to the
get to the
get to the
next line of text
the barrettes pulled
my hair pulled
oh how it hurt
it drove me crazy
but i turned a cartwheel
before bed that night
woke up
my brain exploding
crying
what is this?
doctor’s offices …
—
there is a strange disconnect
in my mind between
her before and
me
the same, i know
yet not
if a tiny vein
had not burst
i would not
be the girl
the woman
the human being
i am as i sit here
writing this
for you
who would she
have become?
that’s the part
i lost
she’s no longer
my story —
me
but not
myself
