my wedding ring is
too big I wonder
what the exact angle and speed
is that my hand
would have to fling
in order for it to slip off

like in physics
all the empty space
between electrons and nucleus
if you bounced a ball
against a wall
and all the atoms lined
up just right the ball
would pass right through

what color would the ball be?

or perhaps I will forget
to take it off
one day when I go swimming
the water will act as a lubricant
it will just slip right off

Perhaps I’m keeping it big
to show what a little girl
I am  
not a round curvy woman
but thin and melting,
a being ebbing down to fit
within the circle of the ring  

I spin it around
on my finger looking
through the gap between
the arc of gold and my finger  

I push it into the flesh
to see how high above
my finger it can rise  
I’m not sure what the space
that I am creating is
supposed to measure

There was a feeling at the back of my throat
that I just couldn’t swallow
  
I lived with it
the way that I live with a song
that gets stuck in my head  

Then it began to migrate
to my eyes
to my stomach
to my knees

I could taste it

every time I tried to breathe
my chest would shake  
My throat vibrating staccatos
as I exhaled

I needed somewhere to lay my head
until I could choke it down
or cough it out.    

The feeling was a little rubber ball             
It had no color           
It had no name  

It bounced around in my head,
much more dangerous than a song             
This rubber ball was mine
and it might never fade  

If I couldn’t sing it out
or give it to someone else  
I’d be stuck with my rubber ball
until they take it away

When no one is looking
I throw my rubber ball
I smash it on the rough concrete
outside in the street

Sometimes
I aim it at the bare light bulb
high on the ceiling.  
My rubber ball is bruised
and scratched
and burned.  

This rubber ball that is mine
doesn’t count.  I don’t want it.  

They will take it away with
the feeling at the back of my throat
that I’m not big enough to swallow

my love
would you be
bothered if I
told you
that I blame you
for breathing

I lie awake
listening to the air
scraping your throat
as you sleep

I need to escape
your oppressive body
heat rhythmic breathing

your parasitic hugs
absorb me
steal my breath

the gooey dough
softness of your body
bleeds out
past its boundary

I fall asleep with my pen
And wake up with ink kisses
You steal my tattoos
To explain away your pain
what a clever trick - You ****!
You can’t take away what’s mine
My bruises will never fill your empty spaces

side by side we lay
my arm thrown softly across your chest
our hipbones connecting

we are light and vulnerable
we are small and fragile

the mattress presses against our backs
it supports us in this moment
that plunges us deeper down

we catch our breath and freeze
drawing out time that is measured
by your watch with missing numerals

i remember the day that i noticed
that you were thin beneath your clothes
and silently you handed me a cigarette

use my lips, chin
as your head rest
please
don’t strain your neck

my lips smash
against my teeth
from your crushing
lazy kisses

our teeth grind to
the rhythm
of your pelvis

i am distracted
by your nose
pressing
my nostrils shut

i waste energy
breathing
wanting
space
to crave you

i choke
on these words

i choke
on your tongue

my brain is pulsing
my mind tries to escape my skull  
an empty head pounding toxic waste
i remember nothing before the pain
and wonder if there exists an after  

my other me is busy curling up
on the cold tile bathroom floor
while i lie in bed struggling with the pain  
we both know for sure
that somewhere out there i must be happy

we lie in the tub convinced
that if i can just get the water hot enough
to burn away my flesh and
make my muscles forget
i will be cured  

my taps are cursed
and the water pressure is never enough
to force it all back where it came from  
eventually, i will be purged