The power of the rib cage

 "I'll take you to New York." He said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." I said.

"I won't." He promised. 

And I let myself believe him. 

I'm not mad at him, I just

feel like he cracked open his ribs, offered up the marrow in his chest and said

"Eat."

And I didn't even know I was hungry;

When I was eighteen, I was friends with a girl named Danielle and she was always falling in love and having her heart broken.

When I was nineteen, I listened to a podcast that suggested vulnerability could be a form of power

It has taken me twenty-five years of my life to figure out how to unlock the hard cage of my ribs and let the rare bird of my heart out

When I was eighteen I watched Danielle lay herself open to her lovers, spread herself out on the table and say "I am a full damn meal."

She would have heard him say "I will take you to New York." and believed him without a second thought.

I don't think she ever made it to New York but she always thought she might be on her way.

I was made of weaker stuff. 

I depended on the wall of my rib cage to keep out the wolves. 

I was never the meal for others until I had fed myself first.

I took myself to New York.

There was nothing wrong with this.

It happened so slowly, the change in my chest

At first just eggs, robin blue, barely more then a little oblong toy

Then tiny birds, gasping for breath. Crying out for their mother.

The day they learned to fly, I was so scared for them. I had never seen such

Delicate things take on the air.

Tiny, perfect fighters of gravity. 

And so I taught myself to put the key in the lock and open the cage and let the birds fly away.

I taught myself to lay bare and sit still and let others enjoy the meal of me. 

I learned to let someone else take me to New York.

He wasn't the first. (He was among the first.)

I won't let him be the last.