he wore
hollowed me out
as an apple core. Pushing
and twisting, leaving

a hole in the middle,
like an enigma, a puzzle
or riddle. The color chestnut
turning to ash. I rise to the sky,

fall and crash.  I cannot
sleep with stranger eyes
in my bed. The body dance
is flat and dead. The pitch is low

and sunk. Who is the man with
stranger eyes I married? The one
who carried me over the threshold
of our home.  Bands of

gold now tarnished black. Sitting
like a sack of potatoes. Should I smash
him or cook him alfredo? The mirror
hanging over the dresser is in pieces

of broken glass. When I pass
the shards still glued to the frame
the woman I see is not the same. She
wears stranger eyes too, in cobalt blue.