Humans, creatures of affection,
we crave the touch of another being.
The blood that pulses under the finger tips
of another like us.
Minds that wander, learn and
create, like our own.
We yearn for
that rush you feel inside
when your soul fits with another.
Like leaves falling in autumn,
landing softly in the outstretched palms of the grass.
The knowledge that somone
understands
and feels the things we do.
That knowledge is what allows us sleep.
That knowledge,
that hope, is what keeps
the lonely
going.

“You’re overweight,” he says, tapping his finger against his chart of heights and measurements, thighs too big and fingers too plump. I already know. I nod, and continue nodding, listening to the word echo and then fall onto the ground, bouncing and bounding, restrictions that have surrounded my whole life, my whole curvy figure. If I could be like the girls with the flesh wrapped tight and the bones loose and caving in on one another, I would grab the chance before it had a chance to flutter away from my desperately aching hands. When I look in the mirror, I try to remind myself that flaws are flaws and yet they were made to be beautiful, but I see what I see and what I see makes me want to *****, makes me want to close my eyes, makes me want to pull and tug and rip until there is nothing left but a pile of rotting decay. I am stuck, I am back on the playground in sixth grade where the boys would taunt and laugh, point and gasp, as I tried to pretend I looked like everyone else, every other small, petite little girl who didn’t have to worry about these types of things. My clothes don’t fit, I’ve gone through seven pairs of jeans in the last month alone, I look back at the pictures when I thought I was fat, but I wasn’t, I was fine then, why did I think that? I lay in bed beside the man I’m supposed to be with, fully clothed and pushing his hands away from my hips, away from my lips, don’t touch me then if you can’t handle all that I have to give. I’m not her, and she never wished to be me.

Consumed by a primitive hunger, they made passionate love,
in a lovely wooded stretch, away from their verdant village,
the girl, in the throes of a newly known pleasure,
felt something round, just below earth,
touching her moving hip; it turned out to be a dinosaur egg!
a witness beyond time for the ardency of Tamil lovers

She was eating fish, evidently relishing every bit,
         but with some haste.
  He sat with a bottle of wine
              so relaxed,
         seemed exploring
     something lost in mind.



                                             Now, her plate is full of bones,
                                                   artistically placed,
                                             his conversations with wine,
                                                     goes unabated,
                                                 *he is certainly marooned in an island.

you are a pause

you are the second
before the air raid
an anticipation so loud it's deafening

you are the stillness, the static,
pins and needles between lightening
and thunder. 1. . . 2 . . . 3. . .

you are the heartbeat, last blink
separating bullet and flesh
crescent cuts bleed from empty hands

you are red lights. stop
knuckles white through a
raindropped windshield

you are elevators
early morning coffee stains
shifting eyes. look away.

you are the dead air
on a faraway radio station
bent antenna. turn the dial. silence

you are the needle
on that half broken phonograph
sidling arthritically away, back to sleep

you are the skip a beat
nervous lip bitten hesitation, envelope stamped
staring into the letter box. just let go

you are punctuation. . .

you are the hyphen
splitting words in two
leaving lonely nothings on different pages

you are 0:00

you are the force that
draws our eyes together
if only for an instant

manage the-
measure the-
beating worry
surging- the tickles
of dread I didn't
really Don't
welcome.
if I love you
and lose you in the daily...
that
fear of leaving you sleeping.
what do I do
when they really shut the door
and we're
cut off.
when I'm here
are you,
still there?
can my love -its
armor
is it strong
enough?
vs. the world
I worry.