In her poetry, Kara Bowers explores themes of womanhood, healing, and coming of age, to name a few. Bowers is in her fourth year at Concordia University, where she studies Creative Writing and Studio Arts. She is from Toronto. This column was put together with the help of Annah-Lauren Bloom.
you are running around in the dark
i am hungry but also not
my therapist says “i know you hate confrontation”
i haven’t really thought about it
the clock on the kitchen stove is seven hours fast
i walk all the way
you are going to sleep to hide from a problem
i am staying awake beside windows
where dark presses in close
like bodies in a room in the middle of the night
i cross the street without looking
i ask if you saw me watching
you say no
inside of you it is me
i have pulled a muscle in my left thigh
walking in the fresh
my therapist says “anxiety is awareness”
i repeat this in the new city
in my urges to ravage my body
and to destroy its natural shape
something made me want to change
you feel like the blue and the green out the window in my parent’s house
i had so much more to say when i walked across that bridge every day
many strangers have been talking to me
we all wake up early when the sun comes in
will you sing me to sleep?
will you still love me even when i go away?
we stayed like that for months before i was swallowed up
i stayed in the mouth with an old woman
she said “i used to look just like you —
you remind me of my friend who died in the war”
for my first workshop part 1
i will not prune myself for you
i can’t sleep when i’m touching you
in the mornings i wake up with you
and i drink two
cups of water
i go right into the center
and i bite the pit
we move
closer together
i run into you
on the way
you shout whisper
my name
when you eat an apple
do you eat the whole thing?
i turn into an eggshell
i press my face into my knees
the message she sends says: i care
about you. i never stopped caring
i wash my hair
it is spilling out
i call the angels. another crisis without your voice
i sleep with the blinds open and i wake up every hour
each day i wear red for the fire power
there is so much more than just
seeing your name. the plants sing a song
to make us fall asleep i tell you about lying
underneath the flower blanket i tell you
about the book i’m reading i put
my face into bowls of salt and water
i will be safe with you
a piece of wire
breaks off my teeth and flies away
Graphic by Florence Yee
