Measure

I know how to measure my value.

I measure in police reports, the centimeter sizes of fingerprints, in the shape of the word “overreacting”.

I know how to measure my value.

I measure in closed fist gut punches, gaslamps, and permission slips.

I measure in the words “but” and “not that bad” and “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it”. I measure in “but he was nice to us”’s and “we don’t want to get involved”’s and “he’s my husband’s best friend, what do you want from me”’s.

I measure my value in medicine and minutes in closets. I measure in days without roofs, the amount of vodka in your glass, in the cost of a moving van. I measure in the voice memo you sent me by accident, laughing.

I know the sum of everything.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s