I read somewhere that you can erase yourself
so I started doing so.

get on your own and push it all out the doors
the ones in your head
until everything is empty-white
a dripping-licked dinner plate

and slowly, my feet left
then my shins
then my thighs and waist and hands and lungs and everything
till it is just above my collar
water up to my neck as I contemplate plunging
and wonder where the air will come from

it is hard to stay erased for a while

lately I have been thinking too much
I used to wonder if I was a good person
counting off deeds to tip the scales, bob above the other end
but now I know I am not

one time, I packed food for some third-world country
when I found a college freshman, all honors, golden boy
we talked AP tests over the soy protein and rice-based vitamins
we talked bright futures as we pretended to care about people who cannot eat
we talked SATs and ACTs as we craved more service hours for our shining resumes

one time, my comrades blew up
spontaneous tears, mascara streams on my shoulders
but as I rushed to comfort them, I only really thought
well, this screws up MY birthday plans

one time, I closed off
the breathless mountains of the Andes
the sopping forests of the Amazon
the Delhi Sultanate, the Byzantine Empire, the Columbian Exchange, Greece and Rome
the entire world
was not monumental enough to matter to me

I had all these ribbons hanging from my shelves
examples of my job-well-dones
a wall of formidable I success more for anyone who dared enter my room

last week I took them down and put them in a box

I had this bulletin corkboard
pushpins pressed into colorful paper
pushpins pressed into colorful photos
pushpins pressed into colorful bits of me

last week I took out the pins and put it all in a box

I had these clay figures that I made when my hands were smaller
I had these head-wobbling dolls painted by someone in Rocky Point
I had these Russian nesting dolls my dad bought for me when I sobbed in the store
I had these paper mache things my Girl Scout Troup fussed over
I had these feathered masks my grandma sent from Bolivia
I had these ointments and nail polishes and lotions I kept on my stained desk
I had these things that were me sometime but aren't now or maybe they are?

last week I took them off their homes and put them in the box

my room is getting packed up in boxes
my head is being erased
but I do not mind,

because bad people need to disappear sometimes