I learned to juggle with oranges,
You learned to juggle with women.

Many oranges fell,
Dropped,
Bruised,
[Learning process after all],
But I mastered the trade.

I can only pray you didn’t.

The night you told me,
I have never felt so free,
I suffocated.

When the thieves broke in,
They broke my mother’s heart,
They broke my naiveté,
They broke my maternal lineage,

By making her closet bare,
She stood barely recognizing it,
Stared at her safe,
Her
Bulletproof
Fireproof    
Apocalypse proof
Safe
Code c r a c k e d,
Deadbolt door eerily open.

“It’s just jewelry,” she muttered,
        [Passed down from one generation to the next,
        Dating back to an invaded India,
        Surviving six hundred soldiers,
        Smuggled within folds of saris through seas,
        Stories etched in souvenir gold].

“At least we’re all safe,” she stated with conviction.
        [Yet I couldn’t help but feel,
        A physical furthering,
        From my immigrant ancestors,
        Who passed along secrets with every pendant,
        Who whispered hopes in every ornate hairpin,
        Who stored their aspirations in every accumulation:
        Real riches knit with poetic prospers from the past].

How funny
To imagine the thieves
Pricing a priceless object --
Ironically making it worthless
Because the burglary left behind
The heritage.

When I asked for a hand,
You lent me your shoulder,

When I tripped over my toes,
You caught me by the arm,  

So I found it funny that
When you asked for my heart,
You were already my backbone.

My dear I’m so sorry but,
I must confess that,
I’ve had a love affair,
With flirtatious Mango.

Though you rather not hear it,
I feel like I must disclose,
How plump
And juicy
And wet
Everything was
A sticky mess.

He tricked my tongue,
Sent me into shivers,
Cooling me down,
From summer’s heat.

He hit the spot,
Made me feel whole,
But I consumed him,
****** him dry,
Spit the pit out,
And he never really recovered.

But for that matter,
Neither did I,
The taste of untamed passion
Is still ripe in my mouth.

You fell into love,
But I feel guilty because,
You left me in lust.

I sing my succulents to sleep
Sip teacups brimming with cold water
House fifteen strays who have forgotten how to purr
Because not everything needs to make sense
And in these oddities I find the strength
To rationalize your death.

You said “Marry me.”
By making it a statement,
You left me no choice.

The exorcist spat out unsatisfied souls,
Steadfastly chained to breathing bodies,
Convincing the living that,
The dead haunt us.

But, when I examine autopsies,
I observe granular goosebumps,
Rising from sunken skin,
Scientifically speaking,
Corpses confirm the opposite:
Life haunts death.

Lately, I’ve been dating myself:
Beaches,
Bars,
Bookstores,
& Bedrooms…
Self care superseded structure,
I’m the happiest spinster,
Because for once,
I’m myself.