I'm stuck gnawing on this umbilical cord
Attached to Appalachia
Coiling around my neck

I came into this world, adrenaline coursing
Held eye contact with the Doctor
Stared my father in the face

A boy fell in love with me because I always won staring contests
He cried blue ridges,
Pressed a chess piece in my palm
I can feel that night(knight)

Things change -- the mountains don't.
I nod in perpetual agreement, eyes dry.

I'm sewn into this earth
Eroding and growing
Stagnant and moving

Even the dirt here is sterile
Dry
No matter how much you sin,
This building is tainted with the white-hot holy of
Institution

I don't wash my hair for 7 days

If I hold my breath long enough
I can imagine my plastic bed is a
Brown couch
It smells sour

In this grungy living room sit
12 disciples in a circle
Their ***** fingernails clink
And their hazy breath makes me
Dizzy with delight

Some nights I can't quite float above these
crisp white sheets

I tell my friends I've been writing more and
They believe me
     Why wouldn't they?

Winter is coming

The rain reminds me I am still alive
It laps at my feet

Shallow.

"We come from the Earth and to the Earth we must return..."
In this phrase I found solace and comfort
Until my stilettos sunk into the ground and I remembered

I am only made from Adam's rib

So I cursed the Earth
and ground my heels into the dirt

Man returns to the Earth and I
I am made from a rib...

Suspended in the cavity around the
heart of man
Flittering like a restless bird who
cannot find her perch

Frowning as I fly into the sky which I
do not know and and where I
do not belong

While man builds airplanes to chase after
me
While man hunts the pheasant for
sport

I want to die and return to the Earth
I want broccoli to grow where I lay
and be left uneaten to
flower

I will no longer be the bony protector
of the heart of a man
and maybe in casting away my birthright

I may return to the Earth, once again.

When she speaks smoke wheezes between her rocky lips
And her voice is crummy gravel pavement
Her gut balances on her hips
Protruding into a bulbous cap puckering into a navel
Filled to capacity with some slimy IT
Created by ***** and a moment's attraction
She croons to her abdomen
Pebbles falling from her mouth
Bouncing off her skin and hitting IT's ears
As a mushy echo
Years of rolled burning paper cause her to droop
She drags like a curtain
Smells like a motel room
And loves IT
Because she can
Because she will
Because she must
As wolves howl to the moon she must
And when she cries out in the wee hours
And someone places a wooden spoon between her teeth
Her crusty screams will be IT's awakening

I'm more poetic when I'm alone
My love poetry is purple
I'm better at prose that I feel
Guilty about

I'm more awake when I'm on my own
I have time to think and to feel
About myself
And know her

I'm more hungry when I'm alone
Hungry for experiences
And homemade bread
And to see my corners get softer

I'm more when I'm on my own
Happy
Sad
Everything

I need to cry
But try as I might I have only shed one tear
So instead all the tears I need to cry
Are swishin' around inside of me and it makes me
Sick
I need to throw up
And I would rather be writing love poetry
But I'm better at writing poetry that I feel guilty about