Elizabeth Acevedo

A truth
you did not want
to know
can rot & grow mold
in the pit
of your stomach,
can sour
every taste
you’ve ever had,
can cast a stench
so bad you forget
you’ve ever known
a sweet thing.

I once heard a rumor

that goldfish have an evolutionary gene

where they’ll only develop as big as the tank they’re put into.

They need space to stretch. And I wonder if

Twin and I are keeping each other small.

Taking up the space that would have let the other grow.

When your body takes up more room than your voice

you are always the target of well-aimed rumors,

Maybe because I can’t keep the billboard frown off my face,

the one that announces I’d rather be anywhere but here.

Like she’s used to shouldering her way

through any assumptions made about her.

And the poem was actually for you.

I thought it would be cathartic

to write something beautiful for yourself.”

Like we saw and were seen.

And how crazy would it be

if I did that for someone else?

Dreams are like the pieces of fluff that get caught in your hair;
they stand out for a moment, but eventually you wash them
away, or long fingers reach in & pluck them out

I am beginning to learn

that life-altering news

is often like a premature birth:

ill-timed, catching someone unaware,

emotionally unprepared

& often where they shouldn’t be:

He must have realized

his laugh was like one of those paper shredders

making a sad confetti of my hopes.

He did not apologize.