Manuel is Good for Me
Erin Bealmear
Last Night
I was a trembling woman
who was stirred from sleep
because of an awful ache.
I was warm
too warm
and yet I wrapped
a sock
around my neck
I was cold
too cold
and yet
the tile
on the bathroom floor
felt
so good
against
my cheek.
I crouched over
my slick
toilet seat
looking at
the water
squinting and clenching
my teeth
mumbling
some kind
of prayer.
I feared I would never
get out
of the container of pain
I pleaded voiceless
in the morning
in the morning
I will be allowed
to sleep
without the unseen
rage and flow.
I sat
in the corner
against the wall
I hugged my knees.
And then
I saw you
I felt you take me in your arms
and brush my hair
in a long sweeping motion
I felt your soft strokes
sliding
down my back
and around
across
my belly.
Your eyes knew
as you looked down
and nodded
in understanding
releasing me
quickly
sticking
your
finger
down
my
throat.
