Me, Museum - Mary Lambert

My mother found a rabid dog

And wanted to hug it

Wanted to give it all her glorious honey love

Wanted to bathe her children in a two-parent household

But, the dog didn’t want kids

The dog would scream it in the hallway at four A. M

Reminding us as often as possible

The sheer art of it

How the monster could panic into my body

Sometimes I still hear it in the chambers of my heart

The way some glorious paintings stay with you

I am a museum

I must be a museum

When I was seven, the dog told me I was going to be a slut

No one came over to our house to play

The dog made me write, «I will flush the toilet seventy-five times»

I would’ve remembered to flush the toilet

But, I started blacking out around then

Forgetting basic things

Started praying that Oprah would save us all

I took snapshots with my memory camera

Hoping there would be justice for this kind of «psyco-warfare»

The teachers at the daycare offered apology eyes and extra sequence

For the art project

The day after, the dog chased me around each room

Because I forgot where my other shoe was

When you are a child

And your mind is panicked like a fire alarm at all time

You lose the ability to remember simple things

I haven’t lost a personal item in months

Do not laugh when I say, 'This is a victory'

Shame is an ocean I swim across

Sometimes, I call it drowning

Sometimes, I call it Moses

Sometimes, I say, «Good morning!»

and swade through its murky surge

Sometimes, I win and cut off its crest with a pink machete

Sometimes, I want to fuck it and

Marry it and kill it all at the same time

Sometimes, I spend my whole day apologizing on shame’s behalf

Sometimes, I think it must be an art form to feel this bad

Sometimes, I outrun all of its psyco-history

Other times, I repeat the language from my child mouth

While beating my head against a wall

But all the time I am forgiven