Jenny

Jenny Nov 2015

i told you thanksgiving was my favorite holiday when i forgot to give tradition something to prop itself up on i lost the code to your apartment and now i walk the two vertical and one horizontal blocks to your house and peek inside the mailbox for a security question and answer session.

have you considered sending a postcard from where you are now, or does the idea of you having an affair with the mailman stop your conscience from turning on snooze?

when my body is cremated and my lungs turn to dust who will stop me from sending extremely drunk texts while being extremely drunk?

try commissioning somebody to make a marble statue out of you. find out you were overcharged when it turns out to be just a huge clump of marshmallow fluff, when you're lactose intolerant, when your kids are gonna have it even better than you did and you had it really good.

you take your kids to MOMA,
and i wonder why we never had *** outside except for sometimes on your balcony under a quilt. i'm not upset about it because it'll be 2065 soon and outside will be obsolete and you and i will be something similar to the Byzantium period where we have to struggle to remember it existed.

Jenny Nov 2015

druken rebuttals of getting back with your ex

i wonder how your disco ball girl would feel about a night like this

all my friends say we aren't in the same scene and i am embarrassed to be seen with you but i love the way you button your shirt and the way you are when your stomach hurts

my feelings are raw meat and hard to chew and i drink a bottle of wine in case i'm left alone with you

ten typos later and i have tears in my tights and stains on my lips
melancholia is a mediocre movie and the truest feeling i can muster

i let a boy in through the back door and forget he was ever there aside from the fact that there is long hair clogging my shower drain and the shower in your parent's house is the smallest space i've ever been in

my friends feel violated by the whistle of a teakettle and i spent the evenings of a man speaking gibberish on top of a washing machine

he was wearing a three piece suit with a piece of wheat in the breast pocket and either he was walt whitman or the end of the summer

what have i got to lose

Jenny Oct 2014

myself (and other vices)

Undress me in rhyme -
We talk ***** in haiku

"You are a bad girl."-
- - - - - -

hey, baby you, tiny little mashed potato heartstrings hangin' from a tenderizer
enough time has elapsed to where it's appropriate for us to address
(what really matters here)
(our letters to home)
(our letters to each other)

road trip checklist numbered 1-49.
the last step is to be discovered later. when we lose track of the metric system and need to borrow a cup of sugar, but this is Australia and what, oh what,
is a cup?
it's bound to happen eventually, is what my mom told me
so there'll have to be two kisses, twice for good measure

the more lies i feed myself, the smaller i become. is this physics or something else that boy who stood me up majored in? tiny things are your thing -
they're mysterious.

i could be small enough to dangle from your pinky finger. i could nestle in your eardrum. i could scale the length of your adam's apple. i could hang-glide from the straight line of your not completely evolved forehead. i could go on forever.

My favorite memory is when i baked myself into three-ingredient peanut butter cookies.
They burned and you lied.
You said something so good couldn't be so simple
And i said "it takes one to know one."

Jenny Sep 2014

falling in with infidelity

I sleep next to you shrouded in thunderstorms with want to barricade myself about what is possibly the sun I spite so well. To wake up in this ray of light - to stretch myself into liquid like a cat and purr silently into the chest of my consoler - seems too optimistic for a bone-brained organism such as myself. I know myself to be what you desire, I am constructed in purple forget-me-nots and tangled so tightly as to choke out thoughts that run as lawnmower legs when ran apart. Wear me draped around our neck in midnighted velvet so I can appreciate how much you have invested in my warmth. A chair for me and in turn I will prop your eyelids up with chopsticks and tell you to mind your elbows. Niceties breed love, which rebels and grows up and drinks itself to death if only to be resurrected as contempt. I tried to turn myself into an ice statue but I just melted in your arms and now I am condensation on the cold cup of revenge leading into you. We are like sea turtles at a resort, finding their way back home to avoid being gawked at, needing only to gawk at one another in a dingy laboratory romance.

Jenny Apr 2014

one handshake

within an introduction exist two things: one and the other.
similarly, in such a meeting two things lie: you and i.
speaking from the standpoint of time, a conclusion must arrive
and what could be better than lying together?

hand gripping hand - seems normal
hand knowing hand - painted, pained, veined.
hand to hand from boy to girl
hand upon hand - all notions entertained

what would it take for a couple's bodies to become one -
a glance in a mirror to confirm the presence of two.
where four footprints stained, a duo remains
seal our deal with a kiss blown towards a reflective sun.

Jenny Mar 2014

spring's cork lodged in my eye socket

Let history repeat itself in between your fingers.
As far as we're concerned, cotton never killed anybody. Right?
Sun glinting peach fuzz on your arms reveals how movies were made.
Attic windows cracked open with bare feet dangling flower stems - now I get how babies were made.

Hey, hello, stop by whenever you want. They say I'm worth the drive. They also say the fun is in the journey.
Most boys prefer one or the other.

Your arms are liquid. You are a jungle.
Let me get tangled up in your heartstrings and bathe naked in Denial.
Cirrus clouds fly in my ears and as soon as lips meet my forehead I'm out the door.

When we die, there won't be any more candlelight s'mores. This is what I've been meaning to tell you.

Jenny Mar 2014

nest

there's enough space for a tiny bird's nest in the caves of your empty stomach and i'm nothing if not a tiny bird girl. envelop me in the enemy's down comforter, pull up my roots for infrastructure. crumple up the map made for meeting mouths - we'll find our way there in the dark. adventure swirls around the bottom of a toilet bowl.

we have a new home now.