What if we as women quit the
“what if’s” and “but when’s” and “except he’s”
and left him the first time we felt a rock drop in our bellies?

I whipped the trash bag into its receptacle today,
worthlessness disguised as anger, and
reapplied my make up three times because
being late is the same as saying you don’t want me

Or I’m not good enough to race against the type of woman
you’re used to.

I think of the ways I used to shame myself when this happened before, when a boy I loved didn’t mind enough
to love me back the same way,
or at all,
but this time, I don’t reach for a blade
I sip a drink -- a daughter takes after her father.

I use essential oils with scents of
emotions I pray to feel --
scents like “uplifting” and “serene” and “relax”

Is there an essential oil the flavor of “*******”?
Because that seems to be the only way I feel lately –
roiling and ready for a fight,
jaw clenched tight
against the taste of your name.