breakfast is no longer

my favorite meal of the day.

i found a letter that i wrote to you
stuck in the case of my favorite cd.

signed

i love you,
          -michelle

when i saw those words
i thought about
                 standing in your driveway
shaking as you held me
               we were fixing the mistakes we'd made
And I thought about you pushing me
                                    in that shopping cart
hair in my face and laughter in my mouth

And I keep going back to the
time we slept on the floor
the snow falling heavy like blankets outside
                       your neck was a magnet for my lips
                       my fingers were glued in between yours
                       my eyes could not blink for looking at you



When i found the letter i wrote to you
signed

i love you,
          -michelle

at the bottom

I tore it into a thousand minuscule pieces

my tears inking my own ****** words
                into my fingertips

cleaning out the refrigerator

the hot kitchen
             the underside of my *******
               collect moisture

and everything smells like salsa.
                                  and pickles.
and raspberry scented dishsoap.

crusty yellow nasty **** caked on

                         the glass shelves

it won't come off,
                                even after a long soak

     I scrape it off with a razor blade

I took out all the eggs, the garlic,
containers of cooked wild rice,
store bought broccoli cheese soup

the butter or margarine or rat poison
or whatever it is
I'd never touch it.

The jar of homemade canned sweet pears
                    from when my mom's brother
                    had an excellent harvest
                                                        two years ago.

there's a small circle of browning black mold floating on top.

four cans of Thirster brand orange
juice, only 80 calories
per serving!





puddles of nasty gray hardened sticky gunk
i don't know what it is.
or what it used to be.

Then the drawers of vegetables

the browning lettuce
the dirt covered mold covered unopened
bag of broccoli and cauliflower

5 red peppers
                        squishy in some places

The             shelves                         all    come   out.

wash with warm soapy water
                                             i wipe the sweat off
                                          my face with the dry
                                       part of my arm


                  I put everything back in its place.    

                    All clean.

                                               Now my refrigerator

                                    has lost all its

                                                     character

blood drips drips drips into the sink

flows between my fingers


my forehead
throbbing

dripping sweat

hair plastered to my cheeks
and eyelids



then, in a streak of insanity

i settle deep into the floor
and pull the shower curtains off the rod,
over my head



falling deep
into the floor
past the tiles

past the pipes
past the old couple living in the apartment below mine

and they hold each other
and i watch


as he tries to put it in her

he can't.

they're both too squishy
and wrinkly

and tired

(he collapses on top,
rolls off of her

her ****
sagging towards her arms
******* with a diameter of my balled up fists
she sighs at him and gives a yellow toothed smile)




i want to feel something hard
and slippery
against my skin

i want to get ****** up

                                           i'll never forget
                                 that blood stained towel
                                      we placed under my hips

                                           to stop the blood
                                                           ­                    from staining the bedsheets.


                                              just like the one

balled up under my head
on the bathroom floor



eyes closed

you didn't have to try so hard

to convince me
that you loved me.



your poems were enough



your eyes were enough.

I tried

to smile today and
my bottom lip split

i wanted you to know
that the other day,

i went ice skating           in St. Paul.                      

in the middle of the city.

                                             (there was an old man that looked like Santa doing beautiful graceful twirls,
                                                         two teenage girls holding hands, one was blushing
                                                                         lots of little kids falling down, and laughing as they got back up)

and i thought "you would have loved this."

you would hold my hand
like all the other couples
and i wouldn't be cold

                                                           ­     at all



you would have looked right through me
with your jaded eyes
and smiled beautifully




(i would know that it was me making you happy)

your hair growing back
and your lips all mine to kiss


and i wouldn't miss you so much.