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letra de 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 sl-t
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 f-ck it and
marry it and k!ll 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

- mary lambert

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