Why Would I Ever Throw It Out?
Tonya Suther
Broken face, matted hair, me propped up on
a gurney. Someone once told me, trauma
lives in the body. It sits and waits
in a throne
in the corner
of a cold room
in a robe
that fades
with every wash.
My mother washed and dried her hair before
rushing to the ER to see me, her
face flushed with makeup, when I saw her. Just
get over there real quick, she had told her
sister. She needed to get dressed first. I
remember how pretty she looked when she
got there, how like patchouli she smelled, like
at the last party she threw. The fluorescent
lights of the ER brought out her eyes, her
smile, her warmth, just like these pink fuzzies
that warm my shoulders every day at three
in the afternoon.
Tonya Suther is a USAF veteran, a former news writer, and an award-winning poet. Her work has appeared in The Academy of American Poets, 2 River View, Zócalo Public Square, and others. Suther’s chapbook, On the Brink, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2021. She lives in Georgetown, Texas, and teaches various English classes at Austin Community College.
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