Sonnet in Which My Therapist Makes an Appearance

I see a crane crashing into the house
like on Beetlejuice and my dad says
it’s your favorite movie! but it’s not
and I tell him so and all he wanted
was to have something in common with me.
What if I’m not capable of ever
dating a man again or maybe even
anyone, and what then? what’s it look like
when I mother myself? or who am I
rebelling against when, oops, I “forgot”
to brush my teeth last night? no one taught me
how to emotionally regulate,
my therapist likes to say. and she’s right,
I need to figure out how to feel safe.

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