I was the child lost in the grocery store,
looking for the jeans that meant home.
Yes, that child overwhelmed in a panic
I knocked over all the displays.
Tin cans of soup only made me sick,
so did mushrooms and…
Older now: the paper cup on the table,
my fingernails ripping my flesh.
The bone, the coffee, the blood on the finger,
the sound of aluminum cans and cartoons crashing.
Kristin Ryan is a poet working towards healing, and full sleeves of tattoos. She is a recipient of the Nancy D. Hargrove Editor's Prize in Poetry, was listed as a Write Bloody Finalist, and has been nominated for Best New Poets. Her poems have been featured in Glass, Jabberwock Review, Milk and Beans, among others. She holds an MFA from Ashland University and works in the mental health field. She tweets @kristinwrites