Poetry by Lynne Schmidt

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The Pros and Cons of Therapy

We cut through the night,
you in the passenger seat
and a beer comfortably between us.
'This is what I learned,' I say. 'How to
use my words.'
And in the hollow of the night,
you tell me
'I liked it better when you
couldn't talk.'

​


Pre Wedding Vows


In a well-intentioned moment,
the woman who saved my life sees a picture of me
and my partner at a wedding
and comments, “You’re next.”

The words feel more like a threat
than something to look forward to.
As though death’s skeleton finger points at
the space between our bodies
biding time to push us apart.

              Maybe this is why he pulls me in so close,
              maybe he sees the ghost pointing at us, too.

After all,
this isn’t the first date I’ve brought to a wedding
this isn’t the first time I’ve exchanged wind pants
for a pretty dress
and combat boots
because fancy shoes make me feel too exposed.

My partner grabs my knee
the way he did at my babcia’s beside as she lay
dying
gasping for the last few breaths of this worldly air.
“I’ll be here,” he says.
“I’m not a flight risk,” he says.
“I’m in this for the long haul,” he promises.

And I taste his words
on former man’s mouth
and spit out the saliva
because it tastes like venom.

​


The Curse of Memory
 
I wish I didn’t remember the easy things
like your birthday
or the first time we met.
 
But you stood there,
against a wall,
and I needed a friend.
Not even a friend.
I needed a body with a mouth
to spit out my name
in a different way than the others had.
Because I’d just chosen to exist in a new place.
and because I’d cut off my hair,
I didn’t recognize my face.
I didn’t need you.
I needed a body.
 
Somehow, a body became something of a rare baseball card that should spend its life in packaging.
People fight over such treasures.
I fought over such a treasure.
 
I picked at my scars with you
until the pink left me red
until there was nothing left to bleed.
And when I was finished,
when my lips stopped foaming,
you told me I’m not broken as I think I am.
 
You said this time and time and time again.
But I didn’t need a friend,
I just needed a body
so that when it sees me
the eyes light up
sunshine in a dark room.
I just needed
 
You.

​

Lynne Schmidt is a mental health professional and an award winning poet and memoir author who also writes young adult fiction. She is the author of the chapbooks, Gravity (Nightingale and Sparrow Press), and On Becoming a Role Model (Thirty West). Her work has received the Maine Nonfiction Award, Editor's Choice Award, and was a 2018 and 2019 PNWA finalist for memoir and poetry respectively. Lynne is a five time 2019 Best of the Net Nominee, and an honorable mention for the Charles Bukowski Poetry Award. In 2012 she started the project, AbortionChat, which aims to lessen the stigma around abortion. When given the choice, Lynne prefers the company of her three dogs and one cat to humans.   

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