i have tea bags hanging from a tack
they are tangled
like our legs
and you whispering
"i want to hold something of yours"
i will create a *** for you
you're welcome to carry it
and ask for donations
because God knows
Lord knows
Buddha knows
that *** will never
never
never
be enough.

one big sigh
one big cough
one big crouch and crawl and one big
swipe.
slice
scratch
cut
glass.
this is a list of things you gave me:
1 pocket knife and
1 more sharp
countless necklaces
countless rings
from your previous girl
from your previous baby
from your previous
pale.
a million grains of salt
and a few pages of smeared mascara
and one or two of smeared blood
that i pretended was yours
just because i wanted you
to swipe
slice
scratch
cut
glass.

my innocence is unknown
and i do not see
but there is paint on my wall
that does not match the rest
and there is ink in my life
that does not match the rest
and there are hands in my life
that do not match the rest
and your eyes will never match anybody else's
and your eyes will never be mine
but last night, i know what you did.
i know that you kissed my eyelid
and i know that you looked at me
while i was as calm and simple
as you will EVER come to me.

i miss you now.
sitting in the light of a lamp on the floor because i have no the furniture to put the things on.
i was *******
and the way that my ******* separated down the middle
and how you saw that
was the existence of summer
in a cold, cold winter.

now i'm the meditator
moving in slow motion
try, see what the lights looked like on her cloud soft skin

how long she spent in front of a reflection
using mother's new eye shadow
labeled Midnight, adding to her moonlight glow

sneaking kisses behind their backs
has been something i pride myself on
ride myself on

i touch all of you in the same places;
the difference being when you need it
but there are so many connections laced under your layers
that i have trouble ignoring.

"How do you know exactly how to touch me?"
I was born all-knowing.

that secret spot along the back of an ear
(the curled fold on a leaf)
anywhere the bristles poke me
(pine needles brush my shins)
where hair meets the back of a neck
(that vast lake, meeting the sky)
the shaft meeting all that hair
(base of a tree that fits my back)

the crease on a knee
(cracked soil in the desert)
the palm of a hand
(an areal view of connecting streams)
the tip of a ******
(a mountain peak)
the bottom lip, slightly tugged
(the opening of our damaged atmosphere)

That is how I know;
from singing to atlas'
saturating maps in my wetness,
staining myself with ink ...
and knowing exactly where to feel.

had to ask somebody for toughness today
*** the skin they had grown
for 54 years
was not enough to deal
with my *******.

had to ask somebody to let go today
*** their closets were
like 9/11 towers and
i did not want to
be the first plane.

had to ask somebody for a vacation today
*** i can't stop thinkin' about the ocean
and the fact that i'm still not sure
where i'm heading;
gotta explore my options.

had to ask somebody if they remembered today
*** i saw the carpet coming off the floor
and i thought of the first time i stepped on a
nail,
and how i realized our blood changes from //blue to red\

had to ask somebody for a ride today
*** i spent too much time
reciting poetry in HS and
i'm scared i'll hit a mirror
or a rabbit.

see, usually... i just ask myself.
usually, it isn't even a question
i move my arm toward what's gotta be done
but today, i needed some palms to read.
i needed some help.