put one more welt
onto the canvas my mother made for me
doesn't even bother me
i hope she feels it
somewhere
somehow
she deserves
to hurt as much as i do

she's got a face like a 1990's beauty queen
high waisted shorts
hair pulled over the top with a miniclip
gun tucked in the back
miniclip
on the front of
her blouse
setting them up
knocking them down
converse allstars that she paid $50 for
grazing the rocks by the waterfall
that she poses in front of

dear 1990's beauty queen
you'd like to be innocent again
but your brown eyes
are locked and loaded
it's just a small trick of fate
that you were born in this decade
the girls here are machine gun prima-donnas
and you were born into them
your high-waisted shorts
won't let you out of it

if girls are so good at painting their faces
i wish we could turn them loose on a real canvas
see what they really mean
when they paint those black lines
every girl is a painter
she needs a real canvas
da vinci is lurking behind those sultry lashes
trapped in the eyeliner-barbed wire
a concentration camp of cover-up
clipping their own wings
willingly
with eyelash curlers -
every girl is a painter.
i wonder what faces they would paint
if they stopped focusing on their own face
i wonder if they would still have clown-smiles
and slanted eyes

i am looking for the next van gogh
but he has camouflaged himself
and is dying in front of an empty mirror.

I climbed to the edge of the rocks today,
Ten vulnerable toes padding the dewy earth

My fingers danced on the slick railing,
Performing a solo fox trot

And the passing breeze spoke,
Louder than I ever could
When we came here together

My cheeks flushed red,
I don’t like to remember that I miss you

Your lingering presence
Threatens my transcendence