I wrote The Hammer poem after a newly minted friend asked if I’d ever considered therapy. He wondered if i wouldn’t get a lot of help from talking “about it. I explained that for years I had avoided therapists, as they would be obligated to inform the authorities re: current abuse in a home. How could I be responsible for sending the sisters and brother who remained at home into foster care? How could I be responsible for speaking, for telling? And so I thought to attempt to explain (and confess) via a short poem.
How To Die Learning To Live / Writing