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Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
I am going to have a dinner party
(my heart is set, do not try and
discourage me)
The psychiatrist asks, "How
long has this been going on?"
fuckingtwitfuckingassfucking
doctornowaren'tWEtwee?
my inner dialogue kicks in
without the slightest prompting
I am going to have a *******
dinner party and not even you
can stop me
(you see I lived in a hollowed out
shell was stuffed inside onetwothree
sometime in 1962  or was it '63?
I think I think at least I think
it was me
until
they dragged me out by
my leg and plopped me
down on this bug eaten
couch O
THE INDIGNITY)
I'm going to have a dinner party
then they'll see
this little dump here?
naturally it's only temporary
that's what they keep
telling me
but they won't, they won't
stop pulling at me,
rubber fitting for my mouth
"Bite down!" how bout how
bout say please? and the rest
of them they sit in a row
and tell me it's for the
electricity (who's
the crazy one now?)
I'm going to have a dinner party
and none of you can
stop me
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
I sit on a stone
grave next to
Truffaut's stone
tomb, breaking
the spine of a loaf
of bread and the
smell of sausages
stuck in our coats
and clothes and
even our heads

We break each
other (we break
each other's hearts
like that) without
words for love
We break each
other instead

It is Autumn and
the entire flat leaks
the radiator spits
on us as we don't
sleep and

In the dim light of
six am I hang my
half frozen body
out of a window
smoke a cigarette
and flick my ashes
on the pagan altar
below, littered each
morning with condoms
another rite of passage

Like spreading crumbs
on a tomb of a long lost
idol; without kisses
without warmth
all of that was
supposed or
imagined or
meant to come
from my heart

I traveled 6,000 miles
to find out he did not
carry my heart with
him but left it home
and unattended

We talked about this
breaking bread, the crack
between the living and
the dead

And just like that
all the world
dropped
dead
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
I take small bites like
a stomach locked in
      a corset
my heart, too
is trapped under
a vice
I do not make
a pig of myself
I give my eyes
a sense but not
a solid reality
why linger in this
tomb (you see
the moment we met
he was already dead
to me)
Love my dear is
a eulogy
Buy the cheapest
box and move on
Cardboard
Victorian
The last of that
model and would
      it be pretentious
to have my stone
      inscribed:
The wallpaper was
killing me
?
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
TONGUE breech
birth RIPPED free
from the first BATTLE
CRY of infancy- a
SCREECH from
Mommy's tomb-
you made a poem
of me
DARLING meet
the OUTside
of the womb
a perfect crescent
shaped doom
death SQUAD
hair SPRAY
b-way play
YOU make big
deals of your
moral decay
GIMME AN F
GIMME AN E
gimme gimme
gimme a ****
tionary
YOU are a poet
now go
away
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
She enters a room
with a compact stare
that SNAPS SHUT
sooner rather than
later and if you get
chewed in her moments
or get a leg caught in
the trap of her gaze?
count yourself as lucky
to have not been stomped
on the spot by the click
and clack of her simply
entering a room in long
strides, her legs like a
compass with two sharp
toes marking the dark
divide
because

No one shares her space
even as she marches head
first into a wall or face
down in your purse
because

she is ALL GEOMETRY
GET IT? not your sort
of thing

She 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 taking the wind and
leaving NOTHING not even
you, nope

She was perfect when vertical
and even when folded in half
a pretty good sport
because

She writes her name
on the bottom of one shoe
and her address on the
other just in case
she is ever again
horizontal
(wink)

Now, layered in ashes
upright as an umbrella
stand I give her urn a
good shake, y'know
as an old friend
because

That's how I am
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
My brain
this cage
this basket
of consciousness
like two hands
holding a bee
fingers letting
in the idea but
not the reality
of flight
one dumb
thumb
pried away
from the
other
I am
free
Jennifer Beetz Sep 2019
I am the untied version
of you, shoe full of nothing
unscrewed and unchewed
a puncture in space and
time meant to hold us
in place where even
a well placed heel
won't do

The rhyme and reason of
a fork with two tines replacing
the precise oneness of
the edge of a knife

Sooner or later we will walk
on four heels, two for each
shoe

You can dress me up
but you can't take me
out

Besides, who will wait
on you?

I cannot occupy two places
at once, the served and the
server, even with a quick
costume change

Order for me, will you?
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