Ego Death

why nobody tell me I was bleeding? akin

to auntie’s crochet kit when kicked over, sinews

in my hand were unraveling out on the cherry-

blossom-rich garden. I cannot stop screaming. pale

velvet petals crushed beneath my feet. grief supposed

to be my only garden. my hands supposed to

stay stitch so I could make something of myself. took

the shears up off the shelf trying to trim someone

else’s tree, cut the strings holding me

together instead. former friends stare at the mess

that is me. they mutter poetry supposed to

be like sowing, or did they mean sewing?

what difference does it make.

crushed petals disintegrate into dust.

blood in the soil, vocal chords fried from the scream.

blood on my victim, her branches never be the same.

Actor, writer, and lighting designer, Taylor Ryan Rivers hails from the ghettos of Vallejo, CA, where he gained an appreciation for diversity and community. Just check any of the previous issues of Palaver Arts Magazine if you want to read his older work.