Because the pillow with my name in pink
is the same shape when I get home, and
sticker stars and paper planets glow bright
above my bed. Because on the other side
of the wall, my sister is playing
I come from a place that hurts on repeat.
Because holes in the door frame
hang beads. Because against the closet door,
a hoop, and the bright orange ball bounces.
Because Sunny Delight explodes against
the front of the house and a hair-spray bottle
shatters my sister’s window. Because on
the living room couch is a yellow-knit throw
thrown over my brother’s head. Because
my legs shiver on the bathroom tile and they
hung loose in the oak outside my window
before the branches I could climb
were chopped down. Some branches
take up too much space, my mother says.
Lea McNeil is a bisexual American poet, mother, and mental health counselor living in Amsterdam.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.