A few years ago I started writing poetry to get over a terrible accident involving my horse, Mischa Barton (more on that later). Unleashing words onto a piece of paper, or an iPad, can be sooooooo freeing. Sometimes more freeing than screaming at a hairdresser. So I thought I’d share one of my most recent works with you:
I got you once.
So alone, so scared. There was a wrinkle in my elbow.
Dermatologists say “Elbows should have wrinkles.”
I say “No.”
So I got you.
Made out of toxins.
How much kale will I have to eat to un-paralyze my arm? My soul?