Rise up from the rubble, back from when I was convinced there wasn’t anyone who’d want a skinny forlorn fool like me draped in black chiffon like Masha from the 19th century play about narcissists and suicides. Can you imagine if I’d stayed home that night in mourning for my life? To get nothing worth nourishing out of the lonely spell of sitting by yourself in a dark room staring into the faulty fire escape of a double bourbon, well, you’ll drown trying, my dear, you’ll drown—just another tragic character from an old tale by a Russian poet. In other words, thank gods I went to the party and made a pact with you, a raft with you, made our two pups with you, which made the four of us bobbing out here in the muddle of this poem which is the middle of an ocean I don’t ever want to get out of.
From Ruined Beauty (Walton Well Press, 2026) by Michelle Bitting. Copyright © 2026 Michelle Bitting. Reprinted with the permission of the author.