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Slate and Marrow


No one could understand, it was
like every morning I couldn’t
find a reason to wake

up. The world felt cold, like
slate, like the marble tiles
in the front hallway of my

parent’s house, that floor was
always cold, oh, how I’d like to
feel the cold against my feet

now. But there I was, in some
eleven by twelve apartment, room,
running from my past, my

present. Every morning I would
wake up, and I would wake
up from that night again -

when he came uninvited, or
did I invite him? The haze of the
drunken nights from then on,

wearing the dress, knowing the faceless
faces couldn’t care less, as long as
they could have their way

with me later that night. What
would my parents think of me
now? I’m no longer their little girl.

I could feel myself getting older
by the minute, I could feel my skin
wrinkling, my joints getting

stiff. I could feel my bones,
the marrow drying up, my bones
crumbling away. And every morning

I still put on my clothes, got my
work together, headed out the
door. Could I ever get out of this

cycle? And it was if I had never
realized that all this time I was
looking for a purpose. And it was



When I strolled up to the street
singer, I stopped because I saw
your face. Why on earth did you

think you could tell me your secrets
when we only met fifteen minutes
before? And just being in your

presence made me break down, made
me hate everything, made me
love everything, made me want

change. I’d hit you in rage, I’d lean
on you, my slate, and you let me. And
it was as if the marrow was back.

I could just lay in bed at night and
feel the blood running through my
body, I could feel the oxygen as I

inhaled hitting my bloodstream.
I could even feel the marrow, all the
cells in my body moving faster and

faster. My skin would tingle.
I suddenly had power - I could make
blood move to any part of my

body, I could make a pain go away,
I could turn myself into stone, not
so I was cold and unfeeling, but so

I was strong, immovable. And I did it
for me, but don’t you dare think
for a minute that I didn’t do it for


Copyright Janet Kuypers.
All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.

the book S&M by Janet Kuypers in 2007 the book Hope Chest In The Attic Life on the Edge, 2007 ccd collection book, front cover It All Comes Down, 2007 Janet Kuypers book, front cover Rising to the Surface, 2007 Janet Kuypers book, front cover

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not yet rated (2:57) live 08/05/07 at Beach poets