Tonight's Poet Corner: You'll Be Okay

You'll Be Okay
by Belinda Roddie

You wrapped me up in your brand new coat,
swaddled me like a baby, carried me to bed
like my legs had turned to dust below the knees.
I was spiraling. I thought I saw a million stars
when really, it was overcast, and not even the
moon peeked out from behind the endless gray.
You tried singing to me - if only to calm the

palpitations, if only to get me to stop crying
because you knew that if I shed any more tears,
I'd dry up, and my body would wilt in the February
heat wave. I counted how many times I tested
the lock on the door before you finally pulled me
away from the knob. The slippery brass was
riddled with dents, personal scars from fingers
leaving prints clear enough to convict me of
multiple crimes of obsession - of compulsion.
And though I was grateful to you for breaking

the cycle, the wheels and cogs and gears and
keys and wires and coils kept spinning in
my brain, and I could feel the veins tightening
in my forehead like nooses, nerves firing off
like fidgeting fireworks that made me twitch
rather than burst outward in every color. You
wanted to subdue me, bring me under control
like a faucet nozzle with a fractured jaw, just
spewing a deluge of "sorry's" and "what if's"
and "why not's" and "sorry's" and "what if's"
and sorry's and sorry's and sorry's and sorry's

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If only I could take ten
seconds instead of ten minutes to leave the house
after securing everything. If only I could let
my fingers stop clicking the same links leading me
to the same scary stories - current events wrapped
up tightly in bleeding blankets, staining visages,
reminding me of how much I have to lose. If only
I could stop checking to see if the stove was turned
off, even though we hadn't cooked anything on
its shining face for three days. If only the world

didn't feel like a cluster of gnats hovering in front
of my eyes - wispy spider webs of floaters to swipe
at and be frantic over, as if a detached retina will
disconnect me from all five of my senses, strip me
of humanity, blink me out of existence like a switch
being ripped out of its plastic plating, the wall socket
bursting with electricity and static, and I can hear it -
every hum and ebb and flow of the current, every
click and snap of my own teeth as I try not to bite
down on my own tongue as I sleep. When I dream,
I am suspended in water once  I try to run, and I
don't notice the details anymore. I let colors

consume me, and when I'm finally cognizant of
the lyrics of your lullaby, it's already morning, and
I'm tightening my belt every time I change into my
suit, and I'm checking for every tiny black tattoo
on the fabric of my jacket, and I doublecheck the lock
before I head to my car - three times. And I feel the
weight of your new coat on my shoulders without
wearing it. And my legs are as solid as stone.