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by Kristin Ryan


What do you think a normal
couple does on the weekend?

you joke, putting Neosporin on my arms.
We’re exhausted. How long was
I floating on the ceiling?

The only thing that brought me
back to my body was your crying:
how your breath hitched in your chest.

Probably argue about whose turn
it is to take out the trash.

We don’t talk about the mark on
your shoulder because your touch
suddenly made me hit you,

or about the floor
I ended up on
after I shot from the bed.

We don’t talk about the
corner I trembled in
as I tore at my arms,

or how I cried, I’m safe,
I’m safe,
with my
eyes screwed tight.

We don’t talk about how
you kept me safe
by taking me in your arms

or how you quietly accepted
all of this—and rocked me
until I became your wife again.

Kristin Ryan 2019.jpg

Kristin Ryan

Kristin Ryan is a poet working towards healing, and full sleeves of tattoos. She is a recipient of the Nancy D. Hargrove Editor's Prize in Poetry, was listed as a Write Bloody Finalist, and has been nominated for Best New Poets. Her poems have been featured in Glass, Jabberwock Review, Milk and Beans, SWWIM Everyday, and others. She holds an MFA from Ashland University and works in the mental health field. She tweets @kristinwrites

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