IMPORTANT ACCIDENTS


“Stacy, Breathe.”

My love’s tone did not inflect the seriousness...

Nor the import of what

I NEEDED her to know.

Somewhere, my mind & body cursed me,

To a place, that’s blueprints lie hidden in quantum physics,

Where theories are nursery tales for genius’s,

And hovers between this and the next plane.

I knew not, but heard how I dropped to the floor,

Clutching my eye, then the back of my head.

Rollicking in pain,

Turning and spinning,

There on the floor.

I only remember a lapse of black.

On the presumption that the only thing that came next,

Was that kiss from God...

The ALMIGHTY himself.

Deep, Dark, Pain…

Swelled up inside my head,

Heavy, oh, so heavy,

Like looking up through the ocean water…

So far down, where light is barely seen from below the surface.

The rushing waters of Niagra,

Raged like a liar of lions roaring in my ear…

With my hands froze, I wondered if my ears may be bleeding.

What the hell happened?

“Stacy, quit faking, you’re not sick.”

I had not said anything, I thought.

“I told you to breathe damnit!”

I did not remember swinging at my dog.

I did not remember insisting the lights and TV be shut off.

I did not remembe...many things…

I just simply….did not remember.

I managed to find my robe,

And pull a flannel, pillowcase over my head.

(As I look back, folks would have seen,

A frantic black woman driving a Sherman tank of a car,

With a White woman complete with head gear high ballin’ it to a Black Panther rally:

Or so it would seem.)

Sound ricocheted like gunfire off

Brick business merchent walls.

Smells filled my nostrils...

Like the way yeast rises in bread.

I reeled,

Gagging and choking.

Light pierced my eyes...

As if the sun set lazily on my retina’s.

Nausea became a visitor I did not wish to welcome,

And with my pain,

If I allowed myself the luxury of relief,

I knew that regurgitation is not a graceful swan…

No matter how poised I was to spew.

My love drove,

Whirling around corners,

Whipping through yellow lights,

And wielded our car into the parking lot...

Like a knife.

It would have felt better,

Had the knife been wielded in me.

My demise then, would have been short lived.

Dr. Weins nurse,

Met us at the door,

Wheelchair in tow.

“Stacy, what’s wrong with your back.”

I tried to mumble something, then stopped.

My own voice turned wickedly on me,

Never had I known my own vocal chords...

Had the ability to grate...

Like fingernails scratching vehemently on a chalkboard.

“In light of your symptoms,

I’m ordering a CAT scan,

an injection for the pain and nausea.

Dr. Hastings from Wichita is here,

He and I will have your scan results shortly.”

There is no one quite like his nurse,

No where in the world,

Practical and funny,

Having just the right touch to put anyone’s mind at ease.

She sat with me a moment...

Holding my hand.

My scan revealed nothing.

Yet, the whirlpools of bubbles and foam...

Drifted over my sense of self.

The nausea lingered like a disease.

Doc’ closed the door part way to dim the light.

His brow perplexed.

Nothing prepared me...

For his next bullet,

Like a dragon’s breath balls of fire flew from his mouth.

“Stacy, do you engage in S & M,

Or any kind of bondage as part of your sex practices?”

In my hearts-heart of hearts,

Never had I been that crazy,

Never been that brazen.

How in the hell could he ask?

“Tim, I hurt, I’ve been coming here 9 years.

I’ve never had a vengeful moment,

But I'd like to get up and knock you outta that chair.”

“I take that as a ‘no’.  

Do you know what ‘Autoerotic asphyxiation’ is?”

“Huh?  What the---“

“The practice,

This rare demon,

Insists on holding your breath,

By will, by force, by partner,

While you yourself are masterbating or being stimulated.”

“Doc, I don’t…”


Do you hold your breath by will,

without restraints?"

I nodded reluctantly,

Somewhat ashamed.

"If this didn’t happen now,

it may have become so later,

Perhaps as an addiction.

What does your not breathing do for you?”

“It’s the only way…

To get a fast jump on the train.”

“And when it’s over,

You feel what?”

“Exhausted, spent,

Like I surfed a wave,

That curls over me,

Where I’m in a tunnel of pure water.

Then when I think I can’t take the fear,

The water funnels me down like a rocket,

Into the center of an active volcano.

Then the lava...

Around the cone...

Implodes down and falls back down over me,

Leaving me so warm,

Like I’ve been dipped in honey.”

“How long from start to finish?”

“They don’t call me a two second sister for nothing.”

“You tell them, whomever THEY are,

you’ve probably saved yourself,

from PERMANENT damage.

Is this a new behavior?”

“Tim, when I said it was the only way,

My first jump on the train was at 17.”



How can I express my thanks,

For his delicate care,

Sense of transcendant empathy?

HE is my doctor,

He will grow old with me,

Never leaving me to my fears,

Reciting his ailments as things...

I can only "look forward to".

Nor does he dismiss my pain,

When I know he can't walk.

HE is my doctor,

He will bow his head an pray with me.

      He who treats my soul, like a teacher…

             Who leads me to books,

             Where I learn that gender is as fluid as water.

      He who will study my concerns.

             A scholar who thinks outside the box of  


             Outside the conservative perimeters...

             Outlined by strict "by-the-book-only"


      He who believes in my person irregardless of the  


             Bible thumping Christians...dogma.






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