{When you say I am proud of you}





When you say I am proud of you

it is so locked and loaded. The thing is every day


should be World Suicide Prevention Day

and, for me, it is. Look at me make it, calculate


monthly payments and split chicken between tupperware.

I wash my hair, floss on the go. The mundane feels marvelous


when there’s no quicksand, when there’s no traffic

and I get there with time to spare. Once I had a wood-


paneled basement. More recently, a hallway always

brightly lit as if we didn’t deserve the dark


or already had too much of it. I completed puzzles,

painted myself inside a snowy timber. I learned


Latinate names for green things,

my mindful hands in their dirt.

Anna Meister is author of the chapbook NOTHING GRANTED (forthcoming, dancing girl press) & holds an MFA in poetry from NYU. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in |tap| magazine, Kenyon Review, Barrow Street, Foundry, & elsewhere. She lives in Des Moines, IA & at www.anna-meister.com