I have been slow in putting this poem of Hanna's up, partly just for technical reasons, but mostly because on first reading it is visceral, immediate, and personal. Who hasn't experienced one side or the other of destructive control? For that reason alone it is worth reading, because it takes a good deal of courage to question that aspect of one's personality (as victim or victimizer).
But I think it also needs to be read on other levels, such as in the sense of what a disappointed, accusatory lover might project on the writer. And at a positive level, I read it in the sense of bemused detachment that comes from self awareness.
Which is it? I don't know; but good poetry leaves these questions open.
(You might have to click on the image to get a readable version. I haven't typed in the poem, because I like the effect of the handwriting, to the point of reproducing the paper bag versions below. They can also be expanded by clicking on them. As with other work on this site, high resolution poster versions up to 13"x19" are available)