O, now yes I feel the sun
on my skin and even, o,
now yes I feel the sun
on my lids (someone
has opened up the blind)
There is tea by my head
a lovely feeling here
in my bed and for
the first time (ever?)
I do not even question
it, not any of it

The ghost who attends
me has run off with tiny
footfalls, left me with love
and no feeling of loss or
dread or ruin (how clever
to leave me this instead!
how sweet and who knows
what brought me to my feet?
I dangle them over the side
of the bed, sitting upright)
I am wearing a cotton gown
that engulfs me even as
it frees me I am on a eight
hundred thread count cloud!

I think I might even, yes
put some weight on these
toes, test them out, maybe
run a few laps to the kitchen
and back (they work!)

I love you!

While I do not believe
in god I do believe in
attending angels

What luxury!  what a
lavish gift! to wake up
alive like this

Hey there you,
I have got
something (three
guesses) it is
something I bring
on the tips of
my toes,
whispering feet,
as I drop all
of my clothes
(Hey
there you!) my slip
slides slippery, lets
dear (let us suppose
it is in my heart
where all of this
love grows) all
about you I
oops! slides
past me again
and Oblivion
is a big pink
rose a slidey
slippery
bride- I am
married! to
what you
made me (and
dear please
make me)
anything

A reprise a reprise
another slip slip knot
for these eyes to
memorize how to
undo the sort of thing
you likely will want
undone
A way out, a foot in
the door, no, I have
no intention of falling
into all of that no
matter how appealing
no matter what lack
of feeling (she does it
with her eyes shut
backing into that
snug happy corner
and all of that crap)
A reprise, a gouge
another cut on top
of the old familiar cut
a scar of a scar of a scar
NOT HERE NO, not
in this jar
(She says she says
I am not a potpourri
you can not seal my essence
in and then let go of me)
I have no shelf life no
time to consume go
and check the date
baby you are *******
years too late

Misses Missedherchance wakes up and
looks at herself in her tiny mirror (she
only wants to see herself in chunks,
taking some of the brunt away from
her sour assessment) she tells herself
"today I am **** ugly" and commences
the project of taking care of that, fixing
all of the holes and vacant places that
somehow got filled in with opportunistic
and mercenary forces while she slept
the sleep of a dead person
Misses Missedherchance wants to get
DOLLED UP, to show her walls, all
all of them, what a beauty she can be
when she's up to it, when she feels
there is a PURPOSE, and she waltzes
through the living room and
the living room walls whistle
just like a group of bricklayers
and she waltzes through the eat-in
kitchen (always hated those words,
"breakfast nook") and the walls
sing back to her in Spanish,
call her "Flaca" and she giggles
She is afraid to venture upstairs
to the bedroom because, well,
lets just say the bedroom
is a bit more critical, a bit
harder to please and she
makes a note to herself
to try and do something
about that one of
these days

Darling
You
Master of distress
Even the scream
Of cordoroy
Can't match
The bleeding
Of your jeans

My hair grew another inch this
month and without your gaze
much less your permission
I wish you could wrap the
brazen red braids round
your fingers and yank at
my love for you, play with it,
then toss it aside like a broken
doll but then I remember
that's how I ended up here
on my broken *** and,
speaking of my ***, when
you asked if I had taken a
look lately and told me I
was disgusting?
Mighty big of you to
tell me you forgive me
for being hurt
Sorry usually makes
my hair fall out so
this inch without
your permission
is spectacular

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