I know there's something
wrong with me- who
doesn't know by now?
but I wonder still
how could he tell
(how could he tell
at all? I covered the
holes quite properly
when I'd blown myself
all to hell)
and the missing part
that came unglued
when I came unglued
as well?
it grew and grew
this part he knew
until it was no part
of me at all

Sometimes it seems I go
straight from shaking so
hard I can barely fit my
key in the lock
to shut the door
to close out the world
to finally letting it all
slide to the floor
Sometimes I go straight
past GO and I forget
to collect myself or
anything else into
a plausible picture
to fool myself
to fool everyone else
to drop knees first
onto my pillow
Sometimes it seems
I plan my big sleep
I plan it while I'm
still sleeping
to collect the pills
to neglect the bills
and watch the sun
go round from one
side of the house
to the other.

She enters a room
with a compact stare
a two inch by two inch
sort of thing that SNAPS
SHUT sooner rather than
later and if you get chewed
in her moments, get a leg
caught in the trap of her gaze?
count yourself lucky to have
not been devoured on the spot
or stomped by the CLICK
CLACK of her heels or
simply shoved sideways
between act I and act II
of one of her excruciating
plays
She enters a room in large
strides, legs like a compass
with two sharp toes marking
the divide because NO ONE
shares her space, even as she
marches head first into a wall
or face down into your purse
she is ALL GEOMETRY,
GET IT? not your sort of thing
My mother hovers like a
florescent bulb, leaving spots
in her wake, purple, mostly
she leaves a room ******
of its color, she's a *******
layer cake
She exits always in great haste
she takes the wind with her
and leaves NOTHING behind
not even you, a second thought
a ticket for two- mother,
daughter, orchestra
seating (she leaves before
intermission, with a cough
and a cloud and a hubbub
even the actors notice her
ugly absence, YOU)
Mother Darling, once
reaching the end, you
could say (and you do,
YOU DO) she was perfect
when vertical and even
when folded in half, a
pretty good sport
(Now, layered in ashes,
she will spend her days
in a horizontal haze and
just to be sure you give her
urn a good shake or two
as any old friend would
and well OF COURSE you
do)

My dear
My Lord
My haunt
My word
(eaten, like
a sword, skewered
down to the last
letter)
My prisoner fights
against my belly and
I keep talking loud
enough to cover
his screams
(HA! this is what
happens when you
give me your word
I take a promise
seriously or at
the very least I
take it, mine now,
not yours)
My sweet
My meat
My clawed
afterthought
Burp

Freud and Jung
pick through a pile
of dung
Jung and Freud
scream into
the void
leftover dream
material, Freud hunts
the obvious while Jung
hangs on the edges
of subtlety but every
now and then they
find a scrap that is
pleasing to the both
of them (what to do?
what to do?)
and sometimes
a shoe is just
a shoe, Jung
grabs at the heel
while Freud is hung
up on the toes
count 'em
each. one. of. them.
is ridiculous

Sometimes I see myself
from above, like in a
surgical theatre (and what
a nice sounding place, like
maybe you might see
some Beckett or even
a musical) but no
only the sound of
bones under a
saw and the light!
is way too bright and
the steel gleams
with a music all
its own
(a speculum
against the side of
a metal bowl, the
chorus of prying
me open from
far away, like
a train passing
caught in a
breeze)

I want to scream but
my words come out
all funny and sprayed
with smiling nurses
overcome by the
sound of suction
(I pass into death once
once more as someone
finally closes the
door)

(I wonder to myself
how long have I had
all of these extra parts
and pieces and how
did they stay in place
me, this jigsaw puzzle
all undone?)

I am under a press that
guides my blood and fat
into a doll with arms and legs
that move (see?) just like
you

I am under a mirror
held in place by thin
and green stems- I fall in
and then out of my cage
of consciousness, like
a braid

I wonder, my slippery words
(are they inside or outside of me?)
WHERE ARE THE FLOWERS?
at the end of the stems
the last word, a gust of a word
smiling nurse hovers close
to my ear (there are)
none

Right side up, she's
a real catch, if
you can catch
her
Upside down, she
will make the moon
and the stars and
even the sun fall
in love with her
shadow
as it scatters and
so do the stars,
yup
Rolling down
a hill, you will
want to follow
but it's silly
but it doesn't
matter so you will
you will
anyway
Dancing in place
she will convince
you it is a circle
yes she will
as you twirl
behind her
Lying down next
to her you will
swear she is
taller than the
trees
and she is and
even taller
And she takes you
swimming with
the breeze, the
cool breeze
and you are happy
but you don't
know why and
you are sad
but
you don't know why
you just are and
so is
she