Cricket delivers
by Christine Stark

me to the therapist
I am made of glass, I say
I am the underside of a hoof, I say
I am the broken wing of a crow so black it’s blue, I say
I am the weathered eye of a cat, I say
I am the fray in the weave of a white bassinet, I say
I am the stainless steel tip of an orange handled scissors, I say
The point is I say I know the point therapist says sips her mango tea why do you talk in so many metaphors Metaphors I say keep me alive Uh huh I see therapist says Patty is dead I say therapist does not see I know therapist says you can’t change that how are you going to stay alive I did not think therapists were supposed to be so brutal I say I am sorry about Patty therapist says deeply sorry but you are my concern right now Once upon a time I say there was a girl who was being tortured in a modest but adequate home with a tv and a driveway and running water and tulips along the front that bloomed in mid spring the girl was sent to a nurse and the nurse sent her to the police and the police sent her to a foster home and the foster home held her until a man in a suit took her to a judge and the judge judged her crazy and she was sent home to be further tortured Okay therapist says The point is I say I understand therapist says why should you trust me Good point I say my point exactly therapist says nothing so I say when you are tired of being a therapist you can go to school for English Well therapist says You are a smart therapist I say the only way I will stay alive if I am still alive you understand the coffin and I point to the coffin therapist nods are through the metaphors and similes and the pictures I see in my head then put down on paper I see therapist says but I do not know if she does I think therapist says you should come back tomorrow That will be fine I say because I can imagine lying in this coffin on top of the futon in the sewing room forever and in that way I know I need to see the therapist whether or not she has big glasses and a pointy nose which she does not by the way have Perhaps I can trust you I say and sit up yoga style in the coffin smells like fresh cut wood I say I know therapist says the scent is overtaking the room

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