Hillary Leftwich

I’m calling you out.

You’re a dream

but never a reality.

You’re everywhere

on the streets and in my sheets.

I work all day and catch

the Colfax bus home at night.

You’re everywhere on the bus;

your smells, your faces, your rage.

There is a woman

twitching in her seat

from withdrawals.

I’m too scared

to sit next to her.

I see the face

of the man who tried

to kill me every day

in my son’s face.

How can I love this boy

with all my heart when

he looks like the one person

I hate the most?

I can’t wake up.

I can’t move.

The psychiatrist tells me

it’s sleep paralysis but

I think it’s you.

I can solve Algebra equations

in my dreams

but I can’t figure out

how to live

off $2300 bucks a month

with three jobs

and a son to raise.

Soon he will lose

his Medicaid because

of a man who cares more

about the size of his hands

than the size of his heart.

There’s no equation that solves

how I can save my son

from the seizures

that are going to kill him.

My eyes aren’t brown

they’re hazel

but who gives a fuck

when no one looks you

in the eye anymore?

Men tell me it’s so cute

when I try to write poetry

and read in front of people.

This is how the world is, honey.

Put your big girl panties on.

You’re prettier when you smile.

Swallow next time, will ya?

I can’t get the smell

of bleach

out of my nostrils

that I use to scrub

the black mold

off my son’s bedroom walls.

It’s killing us.

My credit sucks

and I can’t afford to move.

You have me in a choke hold.

What happened to the bed

I slept in when I was five?

What happened to my baby blanket

that protected me

from the hands

of strange men and women

trying to touch me?

My dad threw it away

like you’re throwing us away.

I can’t scrub everything clean.

The bleach makes it look

like the mold is gone

and the walls are clean

when they’re really not.

Some of us can see it

but too many of us can’t.

It was never gone.

It’s still here,

Growing.

Killing us

with every single breath that we take.

Hillary Leftwich is co-host for At the Inkwell, a NYC based reading series and organizes/hosts other reading events around Denver. Her writing can be found in print and online.