Biography Lived

I didn't seem to need to read
The biography to understand.
It felt like I had lived the stark reality.
So hard to make it to that place,
Bordered by eggshells all about,
The delicate middle grounds that exist between
Right and Acceptability.

And so we lived in a little cage
That sat just to the left of it all,
Survived on torn out pages of Proust
That they had used to wipe.
We cleaned them off and read them,
Fed them to one another,
And tiptoed cautiously into their world
When we needed to cry, or to type.

-jenn long