Sarah DesRosiers-Legault

After another one
dies, they'll tell me: don't
avoid being alive.

But - my body is worn

by the in-between.
My skin knows that cold place,

naked on tiles, sticky and
dying. When I am in rehab, I’ll
notice more.

I’ll see that mosquitos
under blue light are
some sort of magic. I can hear.

Gravity makes noise when you
know it’s there. Over the filling of the
mop bucket I’ll tell you about the times

I was molested. I’ll notice the brightness
of the yellow and the muck in the places
muck can build up.

Some stars eat other stars, you know?
One swells until it can
swallow the other whole,

they call it sharing.
A promise that hides what will
explode into black holes.

On good days

I'm okay with being alive,
I just want to do it drunk.

Sarah DesRosiers-Legault writes, works,studies and lives in Montreal. Her work has been published in Anti-Heroin Chic. On writing poetry, she says: For me poetry is an act of healing. Somehow it makes saying the unsayable so much easier. Also, it is a way of eternalizing every thing or person I have lost. I get to enter different elements of my own grieving that I might not have even known to be there. This piece ("I Am Made of This") was inspired by "The New Experience" by Suzanne Buffam, which I read while I was feeling blocked--it immediately cured that. I can sometimes find it difficult to share my poems, as they really are such personal parts of myself. I think what I’ve learnt as a poet is that I probably just have to suck it up and put it out there.