Telling Mark (Poem from Polarbear workshop)

Polarbear ran a workshop at The Roundhouse last sunday. We spoke about writing imaginary conversations. Here's the first draft of a poem I got out of it. 

I’m sitting in a chair, it creaks when I move,

It sounds like it doesn’t want to take my weight.

I’m talking to Mark – he is playing the role

of my therapist. Mark says I don’t look like I’m all there.

Like parts of me pull in so many directions - 
                                                                      I'm never in one place.

I am staring at a crack in the wall

telling Mark about my dreams,

the dreams where grief

                                       is a suit I can’t take off,

Mark...

This might be the year my grandma dies –

This might be the year my other years anticipated.

This might be the year something about me that I like changes.

Mark looks at me like my body won’t take my weight

                                                                                       like I creak when I move.