"What's the world for you if you can't make it up the way you want."

-Jazz, Toni Morrison


Antidepressants

Antidepressants

We were better than this, than towels
left in piles by the shower, unread newspapers,
the debris of us left neglected in the basement,
week old cat litter, how you would come home
to me adrift,
already drunk because at least that shame
I could live with,
because the things I had ingested
in the corners of our bedroom
left me too weak
to admit I had taken them,
and if you knew
you would kill me, wouldn’t understand
that I had to be absent
to stop myself
from thinking—
How many times I had considered
getting it over with
while you were at work,
and all that guilt I held
knowing you might come home
any day
to find me finally stable,
knowing you would have to buy new towels,
would have to scrub what’s left off the tiles,
would have to sort through my things—
deciding which memories
might hurt good enough to keep.


C. M. Tollefson is a poet and musician living in Portland, Or. He co-runs the poetry journal Cathexis Northwest Press. He writes as a way of grasping the intangible and making sense out of overwhelming stimulus. His work may so far be found in Anapest, The Esthetic Apostle and The Bridge. He harbors a strong distaste for describing himself.

discovery

discovery

FRESH LEGS, MASKS FOR FACIAL DISFIGUREMENT DEPARTMENT, and IT SEEMS THE MEN

FRESH LEGS, MASKS FOR FACIAL DISFIGUREMENT DEPARTMENT, and IT SEEMS THE MEN