I’m not used to this, sentences, whole milk thoughts with subject and predicate. So much has been nonpredicated lately. It’s like standing in quicksand that only sucks slowly. I do little things—sitting stoop-side in sunshine; long runs; give blood; those chocolate croissants at the corner café: little temporary highs, like your skin on mine on a Sunday evening, before the rainy lonesomeness of Monday comes, or the fight we’ll have that night. You’ll tell me you can’t do this, to get the fuck out, and I can feel the quicksand sucking faster. I only asked. I only wanted reassurance: re-assurance—the assuring has to be done over and over, you see, to wash out the hurt, the long wounds I let you leave. There is a yellowed bruise in the cubital crease of my left elbow, puncture wounds from the needle, still. The vein, it never really closes.
Poet and professional muse Joanna Suzanne Lee has never formally studied writing of any sort, though she earned her MD from the Medical College of Virginia in 2007 and a further MS in Applied Science from the College of William and Mary in 2010. Her second full-length book of poetry, "the river and the dead," is forthcoming in 2015 from unboundCONTENT. Under the big bright umbrella of “River City Poets,” Joanna coordinates poetry readings & events from Shockoe Slip to South of the James and writes semi-regularly at the-tenth-muse.com.