There are worse places,
little girl. Worse hells.
This isn’t one of them.
There are depths you haven’t yet seen,
where the dive alone
would **** you.
The sea monster of my depths,
curled still, and waiting,
waiting for me.
I imagine his hand on my ***.
I imagine all the trespasses
I would never let happen
(never again).
There is the scene of the crime—
I’ll be there once again—
I’ll take a photograph of it
again—
where he knew,
despite the hand that he let caress
its way downward, despite
his fingers that fumbled
towards ecstasy,
he knew—
he knew
that he never should have touched me.

Break me into chasm
then let the love pour in—
flower into deep well—
stem the umbilicus
of what you could say
you knew of me—

the privilege of living
inside your own head—
and me,
something made of sand,
a wink—

something of one
of many lives ago,
though how well
you knew me—
as did he—
how well they saw me—
and maybe no one did.

We were lovers
in a past life.
And now
I am obscure as
lost Atlantis, origin
of the fairy tale—
fragile
as gossamer and
the Holy Grail.

Where does it hurt today?

My teeth/sinuses,
Sciatic nerve,
*****, perineum,
*******?

But not my heart
(no, no more my heart).

My pieces scattered,
no more sacred
than dust
on the wind.

Lately, the outside
world has felt
cold, foreign,
and alien.

(Especially anything
American.)

Of course, being in this
wave of blue,
I would be hacked
to death.

I feel innocent in my arrogance.
A drudge to the syrup tin,
cheap and sufficient—
the honey hoarded.

and between you and me is the world

and between you and me is a language

and between you and me is culture

and between you and me is a war

and between you and me is religion

and between you and me is a wall

and between you and me is perception

and between you and me is ourselves

her shadows
have more weight
than my ghost

in my hands
a basket
full of ripe
plums

they prefer
those bite-sized
cookies with the
******* fortunes

plain language
in which
nothing hums

Learn their language. You will
need the words
to sing
your own songs.

Let them name you:
shameful
crazy
nothing.

We forget that
***
is still
a weapon.

Laugh at their visions,
their one-faceted
solve all
solutions.

Remember that
every day
you rise anew
like the sun.