one of those days

there are weeks when you wake up
every morning,
and it’s someone else’s day.

the wound opens again,
spitting and snarling.

it becomes hard to trust yourself.

you wake in the boot of a car
with a wild animal.
and grown-ups outside saying,
“don’t cry, you’ll use up all the air.”

you are the darkness, the claws and the teeth.

some days the best you can do
is go back to your cave.

it’s one of those days,
and words can’t reach you.

go inside.
you, oh best beloved,
were made for this.
tufted paws, spotted flanks:
an overgrown barn cat.
purring and growling, both,
as you lick yourself clean.