My mother used to say I should treat others the way I wanted
to be treated, which is to say if I was nice enough despite anything
then I might earn kindness from the world. Thus in me grew two
foxes: one who knows how to tuck myself small as a mouse,
the other who found the henhouse. Mrs. Fremling told me I used
to be such a nice girl, what happened when I spoke back in choir;
Mrs. Knilans said I’d never get anywhere if I didn’t pass algebra;
one best friend said I had pea eyes, another told me I had a star
complex. My ex-husband said I’m a frigid whore. I am
definitely keeping score. Once, I was ashamed I couldn’t
deserve love, couldn’t swallow my fist all the way down. One
fox knows how not to be perceived; one fox with a mouthful of eggs
One girl holding onto the hose, one girl stoking the embers
This one writing it all down so I remember.