I have gone into a dark place full of churning water and anger. The thought of having to get into touch with James’ father brings up old wounds and regrets. But if there is a genetic problem, he will have to be notified so he can be tested, too. Yes, back through the wrong end of the lens, back through the white-capped waves, all the way back to seventeen and a flat, flat middle. All the way back to the time before the beginning, before the mistakes I made, before I was fooled into believing that I loved a crazy boy who didn’t know how to love anybody. Back to the scared girl longing to be touched.
I hate thinking of all this, but it has yielded a new piece, a hard, mean, nasty little piece of CNF. I may read it at Meacham, though I come off sort of looking like a monster mother who eats her young. Or something like that.
So I’m very glad to have written the piece, even though it is so nasty. The rejections are pouring in. Seems like I get at least one every day. This morning it was from Diode. I’ve published with them before, but they didn’t like this batch. Yesterday Zone 3 rejected me. I somehow figured I would get quite a few acceptances since I sent out so many submissions, but so far only two poems have been taken, only two. Was it always this hard to get published??
I have nothing that I must do the next few days, which is a very good thing for me just now. I hated being at the hospital. I hated having to deal with everything, so it’s good to just relax and be. Maybe I will get more writing done. Maybe I won’t. I will just see what happens. Next week I will finally get to teach a full week of school. I need to adjust to this new schedule.
On to it then.
~r.
