"there's a trick with a knife i'm learning to do"
ten years ago i would journal quote this prompt (the title of a collection of poems by michael ondaatje) to describe a bitter passage i was suffering with anxiety that led to depression. i was spooning a period of dress ups then, wearing thousands of layered silk slips that would snake-like slither and flick a gentle path behind me. though beneath those delicate fabrics i laced on eighteen eyelet leather boots. i thought i was ready to meet the world, at least my feet were. i coloured my long hair black that would ringlet to my whale wide hips as i would refer to them, and i had lashes that more than once it was mentioned could been seen across a room. i moved countries and cities and cold but beautiful boys to find a place that could carry the confusing orchestra i was. but like the ten days i spent in Paris looking for Paris in my twenties, calling my boyfriend at home to afford me "one more day! i'm sure the streets will let me see it tomorrow" i was looking for some place i had heart built, that wasn't there to be discovered but instead only be drawn
"there's a trick with a knife i am learning to do..." here, now, i am trying to draw , trying to shuck a path for the girl that stagnated when she unexpectedly became a mother. a fear that had i known it was coming would have surely overwhelmed me. i feel like i boarded, flew, and then got stuck in some hot sticky tarmac on exiting the aircraft.
so here is where the knife bit comes in