blunt tips of bent cigarettes
were incisive as razors -
sliced wrists weeping
bright red sentences,
spattered unborn to blank paper
and turned into statues
so the dead would always remember
what they did,
never safe in the graves
in which they'd took refuge

but blue on blue
was ever her color;
blue on blues
seeping from old sins,
deep, hidden within spidery veins
that traced pale, soft *******,
finally filling mute lips as she slept,
subsumed in oceans of color,
blues that gave stories, as waves to shore
subsided, reclaiming their pain,
and cleansed sand once more

What end to life!
a collection of furies like stone turtles
arranged on the mantle -
just a few dozen last words
tucked among ads for
Old Spice and Polident tabs
unread, used to line
litter boxes in Cambridge
or wrap fresh fish at Hay Market;

then, someone pausing to wave at the sky
missed saving the drowning woman
by years, if he'd tried,
finding questions in every answer;
child curled in hard lap of his mother,
her cold affections of words
blew from dead lips like old wishes
without tender touch or wet kisses;
but that life continued,
if lived only blue on blue

Blacked out,
I found you downtown,
Passed out on the ground.
You lost track of yourself,
I cried like a child.
Seeing you fall,
It was agony no one should know.
Cause you’re my desire,
My only.
Please come home with me,
We can be happy.
You’re not really like this,
You probably know this.
I can’t see you like this.
I’m crippled inside.
From the agony I've come to know.
You’re mine, yes.
I am beside you.
Did you even think about
how far you've come?
You’ve done it now.
Would you really rush out?
You’ve fallen out.
Torn down, I am.
Down to my bare bones.
The end of the line has come.
The moon leaves a cold light,
As you fall to the floor,
Half awake—half unsure.
For the irony I’d rather not say.
Cause you’re mine,
I will lie beside you.
Never will I hide you,
I’ll be right beside you.
I am blind.

How do you explain

to your children that the

horrors of the world are real?

How will I tell my son, We

found a place you can call home but

your bus might not make it to school.

Do not look too Jewish in this part of town

Do not play in the train station

Do not get used

to the weight

of a machine gun.

Or look my

daughter in the eye and say, someday

you might say “no” and someone stronger than you might

not listen

You will not tell me

Know that this happens a lot

Know that your wrists pinned against a

backboard will

echo in the way you move your hands

for as long as you let it

But

human hands aren’t as heavy as metal shackles

And I’m so sorry

but I won’t be able to

take the weight for you

You’ll wake up in the morning

That I can promise you

You’ll wake up

and your lungs will fill with air

whether you tell them to or not.

One day

I will hold someone

small, with my face

and they’ll cry and I’ll say,

*I know.

I know you’re tied with little yarn strings to the last life

I know it hurts to be here and

(honestly)

you’re never going back

But

the older you get the less you’ll remember

what it was like

before you had a body

when you were made of ash and infinite light

You’ll convince yourself you live here and

that your hands are you,

But remember that once you were boundless

Inside my body, without yours.

I shave my legs and pits and bits
in an effort to fit right in
But I'm always late
I'm "the chubby mate"
who would give anything just to be thin

My friends are pretty where I am plain
although none of them would ever say
So I'm left with no choice,
to get close to the boys
I have to give it away

Don't me wrong I like it
For those few minutes I feel real pretty
But ten minutes on
when he's already gone
Thats when I start to feel ******

I know I'm not the prettiest girl
but I'm honest, loyal and true.
If a boy could see past
the size of my ***
Well there ain't much that we couldn't do

I want a poet
between my thighs,
wicked tongue wrapped
in verse,
drive and provoke,
serenade
this dancing knot
of prose hidden here,
a hungry mound
saturated beneath a soft
cocoon of sweltering flesh,
suspended in expectation
inspired to spill forth
steaming compositions
sticky on his epic lips,
grinning.

And he’ll rise then
breathing a new stanza
onto my fragrant neck
“Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper
as he fills me with a new
refrain
emphatically taunts
my music
to sing down onto
his tightened fuse,
running rivulets spiraling
along his determined thighs,
crying out into his
listening ear,
a requiem so potent it
drips off the page
and becomes some reality.

And we lay there under fast moving clouds
sometimes-revealed stars
in the reclined seats of my mother’s car
outside of the other boy’s house
hands behind our heads
let the wind from the open windows
blow the humidity from our foreheads

I find you so handsome in the weak moonlight
the strong bridge of your nose standing out
from underneath your shaggy hair
the bright whiteness of your teeth
as you grin, amusing yourself with words

Our conversation is give and take
Neither speaks more or less than the other
give each other time for thought
in a delicately held balance I find comforting
just like when we were so young

The days when your mother drunk dialed
and your father tried as hard as he could
when you clung to me and my words
walked from North Platte to Lincoln
to escape her long red fingernails
and fall into my open arms

All I ever wanted was to see you smile
the same as now
while we wait in the car
but you left me when your mother stopped
when you found yourself stable, happy even
I became irrelevant, despite professed love

I know you further than
the other girls.
far enough to sit in the back of my mother’s car
seats reclined, watching shadows pass over the moon
looking at me like you used to
you see right through to the center of me
of course I still love you.

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."