Mari 7d
4am
I think
this mirror is
slimming
and now
I don't know
who to trust
anymore.
I turn
from one side
to the next
and I know

I'm falling
out of love
without you
because
I no longer believe
a word
you
say.
I miss
getting out
of here
smelling something
different
reading
different
words
on the walls. Just
understanding.
This is why
you fall
asleep before
4am
and definitely
before the light
starts changing
and day starts
waging
all the messy hair it has
to offer.
It all depends on the way the sun is shining I expect.
Mari May 28
We check
into a hotel room:
"Let's talk"

                     doesn't come into it
                when leaving work
           before the light does means:
      "Let's get out of here."  


Emerging
                             from The Underground

         buffing my fingertips along the red brick,
              I reflect: no wonder
                   we tear our clothes.

              The door clicks:
         "Come in."

     There were guns behind the curtains
          but I saw
               a chance at
                                                             fre­edom


so I ran.
I suppose it's about love at all costs. Love for yourself.
Mari May 18
The people, moved, and like miniature,
looked down on from the mountains.

Empires look small from aeroplane
windows so sometimes I insist on the aisle

seat, where I can imagine
you; big and full of all the worlds

I've ever known and will ever cry for. Except
perhaps for the earth-

a journey I can't yet fathom. Still
I pursue the future. Even under a microscope

you could barely see me shake. Lust
wanders while strength strains to meet

the struggle. My knuckles
white through wishing so hotly

for you for you for you
to introduce me to the faces

of you, illuminated by the drive along
the coasts where the waves crash

and the gulls caw and houses slide towards
the blue inevitable and planes soar

right in front of our eyes. And yes, sometimes
through very high buildings of time

& money time & money time & money.


The sun was there that evening.
                                                            “As was I confessed,” the moon.
Possibly the most Aquarius thing I've ever written.
Mari May 8
as you came crumpling down the stairs with your shopping bag and
a dog bed and your t-shirt tucked into your tracksuit bottoms,
pulled halfway up one of your legs, looking homeless
having drank too much again. Oh yesterday

hurts everywhere but it's too soon
to say exactly what
the full extent of the damage is. Until
the music stops: it was you.

I spilled the gin on the laptop.

Rolling    
                                                wonder        
               dancing again,

my head on your knee.    Would the laptop still have

drowned

if it had have been Coke? Or just the tonic? Or
if she hadn’t have been filming.  

Soporific. Not exactly. I awake from the anaesthetic
feeling fixed in a way like I never needed it.

          The graze was always there. Since I was 13 years old, my friends

my friends laughed to a different track 2 me, chatted
on MSN * insert emoji *, watched Father Ted, German classes. Holly

watched Father Ted.

I watched the L Word. Alone, moth-like. My life
is nothing like Vancouver, LA, whatever,
and all I aspire to is finding a lover
who can swear
                           like Bette Porter.

I'm a little bit Tina: passive. Take me-

if I'm ever a mother I'll teach
my babe how
to ask for                                   the moon.

Tangerine tobacco smog sounds beautiful- I
exhale and the sky clears:

beneath, I lie, tobacco tongue tangy dragging the taste of him along
the roof of my mouth; last night,
I sang.

The reality drips down the windows, sour as a dairy. Turning I

scrape the scent                    nose down
                          
                 I follow
                                       hundreds of ants,
I kneel before

all my gold
lined up against the wall.           Bright
graffit-ed relief.

Cold
        sweat is exactly like what it sounds and
I smell grey like chewing gum hiding under the table.
My phone flashes AND AND AND because it's
always silent. Not even tea -
or the tangerine yoghurt
sweating on the desk - can save me. You kissed no one
you love last night.
Recently written about sometime 10 years ago and before that. But it's all the same if I'm thinking about it now. Who says time is linear huh.
Mari Apr 27
Fires on the allotments this morning
means life rains

                                later.

Feel like something nutritious for breakfast &
orange juice treats you well.  

                                             Somew-
here, the sky alights;
                a crowing climax of a mission accomplished.

Limestone Stomach & All The Beautiful Things
are being destroyed. History corroded,
acid attacking, this niggling

feeling. All those sugars

                              first thing.

Tax that:
    secret chemical weapons; abrasion

of teeth
          ground
      on duty.
                                                            The sting
        and the blessing
of morning.

What about if it's freshly squeezed tugged from the trees -

Tree, do you feel
a load has been lifted or
the weight of loss -

makes me feel
      fresh
or at least aspirational.
Croissants are cultural,
some people are

                                             flaky.
Newspapers are shook
                                      are shook again
into something stable

          - a home -

are pissed on by dogs
all over the world.

Missiles write blind in the sky
searching for purpose. Breakfast,
                                                     a pretext for a healthy day.

                                     The dawn blazes
                before
stepping
                  out
                           of

bed; the moaning throb of a box unchecked.

A kiss before brushed teeth-
                                                      spre­ad that on toast.

O I'd pick coffee over OJ any day of any life time.


& I'd pour chocolate
     over
              all of
                      that.
Mari Apr 23
Freedom came wolf whistling down the street as our pride
                                        left the building.

We checked right to
                                      left eye contact with the culprit.

       The market
                                   shook
   as we spun it
                             down,

speaking holy words:
                      
                      This

      is my body
                                        
                       ­           whole,
beating.
I know a group of wolves is called a pack but that is not the point.
Mari Apr 17
I wake up I
get up splash
water on my
lazy face
wash the dreams
away rub my
eyes clean go
to the loo nothing
unusual. Downstairs
the glass was
lying on
its side
rocking gently.
Empty the
water pooled
on the countertop,
it was
     dripping
down the washing
machine. What
a mess.
How does
clean water
make such
a mess. I
was going to
drink that.
That cat.
She’s demanding.
I like that. I sit

at the bar. I
spend a lot of
time hearing music
learning
to appreciate
sounds I would never
have when I was
fifteen.
When
I walk out, I forget
everything I just
heard. I allow
myself to think
about it sometimes.
Sometimes I’m
scared of these
sounds making
me dumb. Or dumber.
I mean I look at notes
I made when I
was becoming
better trying harder
and they
don’t mean a thing
to me anymore. I
have no idea
what they could possibly
mean. So I finish
my coffee and I walk
back to work
a bit broken, break
over.
Sorry I didn’t mean
to check you out I
just liked the way
you took his hand.
Fuck it. I am sick
of these
power struggles
I’m just looking
for a friend. But that
doesn’t turn me
on. I am looking for
a man-eating monster be honest
wring out of me
all sensitivity
squeeze me like
a fucking lemon. No,
don’t stop. Right

there is where
it’s at and that’s
exactly what
I resent. Sorry,
what did you say? I sat
myself right under
the speakers. I
had stumbled in
not drunk but
awkward. I plod.
Impersonating
the way I walk
once, my mom
plodded and
my friends did
the very same thing
so it must be true.
The accuracy
of your interpretation
is disturbing,
but I’m very sure
of it: I bounce. If only
I were taller
is what I think
every time I
hesitate. Like when you
ask me, so very
sweetly: what
do you want to watch?
I don’t know
baby. My palms are
sweaty, crippled
by indecision I
become angry but
that was the old me.
This new one
doesn’t give a-

(damn your
bum looks good
in those jeans.) What
was it you said? That I
take a hand and
use it to move
the hair
off my face and
look into space
when
I say something
serious. Or-
like what I really
mean. I’m
looking at the door
while the ice
in my drink is
            melting.
There is so
much ice in this
damn drink that the
damn thing is
overflowing
while I’m just
            thinking
and you keep talking
I’m just
thinking
what an appetite
for life.
Are you going to eat that?
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