St Louis

[expatgirl]

Now, she writes, I might need a shrink.

Or, I always needed a shrink and just can't avoid it anymore. 

I think of lungfuls of seawater and I do the laundry; or of organs spilling out like eels onto railroad tracks, and I fold my husband's clothes; or of a thousand, thousand smaller ways to die.

I write back some words of comfort and I don't say oh god my sweet girl, my lovely friend, we've always needed shrinks. I don't say we were in a poetry club together, for god's sake. 

I say, instead, don't be afraid.

I will learn to keep a clean house.