My Beginnings as a Woman

My Beginnings as a Woman 

I am from three roomed apartments,

from delicate VHS tapes and worn brick walls.

I am from family quarrels over senseless labels.

(Dark, acidic,

they still smell like burning tar.)

I am from the haunted spare room

the looming tree branches

whose shadows dripped like black ink 

into the night after my grandmother took her last breath.

I’m from orange peels and curdled milk,

from third to center.

I’m from the frosted-over playgrounds

and the “Shedd Aquarium Member,”

from fabricated performances and powdered carrom boards.

I’m from the assumed no one

with the wife whose hands and heart

were wrongfully accused and torn asunder.

I’m from New Castle and Punjab,

soggy tuna melts and Nutter Butters. 

From the “boot,” and “Bob’s your uncle”

to the shattered van windows,

having to drive with taped plastic bags.

During the presence of the storm,

the rain pours down on innocent bystanders

as time is filled with photos and aging records.

As I step away from the distinct cracks,

the rain filling them to the brim;

one hand is holding onto the buried time

while the other lays on the edge of the future.

-i am from poem by george ella lyon used as a template