Brenda Taulbee: REGENERATION • Cleaver Magazine

Brenda Taulbee
REGENERATION

I want to put my head down
…………………….and sleep like I used to know
…………………….………..how to sleep.
…………………….I want my brain to be less
like a rained out game
…………………….of hopscotch, the lines all running.

I never want to forget                                     how the axolotl grows back its limbs.
…………………….…………………….…………………….And the starfish. And the lizard.
…………………….…………………….…………………….Snakes and their skin.
…………………….………..I want to write a poem about
…………………….a time I was brave and have you                    believe me.
I want my mother to call me               without my mother                             knowing
…………………….…………………….…………..I want
…………………….…………………….…………..her to call me.
…………………….……………………I want to say I’m sorry and not sound condescending.
…………………….…………………….…………..Same for I love you.
…………………….…………………….……………………………………….Same for please stay.

I never want to do what the pot does
……..……..……..to the lobster. The scream
……..……..……..……..……..……..…….. ……..……..of all that red.

…………………….……………………I want you to read me without spoiling the ending.
…………………….……………………………………..……..I want an ending. One where we all live
…………………….…………………. ……………………and nobody is left to cradle the gasp
…………………….…….. ………….. ……………..of our bodies.
I want my body to be more like a galaxy and less
…………………….…………………. ……………..like a meat-packing plant. I mean,
……………………………. …………………………………………..…………. ……………..disorderly. I mean free.

Brenda Taulbee is a queer poet living and writing in Portland, Oregon. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from San Diego State University. Her work has appeared in Iron Horse Literary Review, Los Angeles Review, and The San Diego Poetry Annual, among others. These days, she spends more time talking to cats than people, and that feels ok.