I run
off, a leaking
faucet. None can shut
off. The drip is tiny,
but toying at you. A puddle
in the room.

I’m sideways
as a crab. I move in
this direction, leaving
footprints in the sand
that wash away
from a crashing wave.

I’m tilted,
tumbling in the wind,
a tumbleweed bouncing
in all directions, covered in
dust. I flake, nod and cuss.

her face
every morning. Rouge
to cover her bruise. Paints
her lips candy apple red,
matching the highlights on her head.

She puts on
sequins and ribbons
to tie it all together,
silk stockings and
black leather.

She puts on
every man. They can’t
understand she’s a mannequin,
for entertainment –
the payment helps as she’s
the sole breadwinner in the house.

doesn’t respond
to my “hello”. He looks
down at the sidewalk,
chalky face, lacing his

black leather shoe, doesn’t
see that I’m standing
in full view. With a cough
and a toss of his head he’s

revving his engine. Sixteen years
living next to him. I can't pick out
the title of his kids, or job
or the side of the fence he's on.

to the window
and missed me
at his door.

I ran
out of energy. This life
became a chore.

He ran
over. So, he
didn't call.

I ran
head over feet -
that's how I fall.

He ran
an errand,
making me wait.

I ran
out quietly
slinking as
a skate.

He ran
his moil
on the phone.

I ran
my toil
with a grunt
and a groan.

the clanking sound
at eleven o’clock searching in
the dark for a frying pan. The smell
of bacon and eggs, and thumping

legs taking the grub
back to his room, studying
all night and waking at noon. I’ll miss
the bedhead at two, as he stumbles

into the shower, and the hugs –
even though he towers over me,
at six-three. I’ll miss the kisses
as I leave to do the shopping. The laundry

will be light without all his shirts
he wears once, towels and socks. And I’ll
miss the talks on the couch as we’re
watching tv. But most of all I’ll miss the laughing!

to put out the fires
with just a cup of water.

She’s trying
pliers
to pull out the splinters
poking holes
in her side.

She’s trying
to climb a mountain
tied to a string
of floss.

She’s trying
not to drown
but in a riptide
she’s tossed.

She’s trying
to shake the blues
into purples and reds –

She’s lost

my plans of travelling. Now
the borders are closed. And I
cannot go.

I put off
my friends for speaking
my mind. Now they don’t
take up my space. Some are so blind!

I put off
my chores. Now the house
is a mess. The laundry
is *****. And I haven’t a dress!

I put off
paying my bills. Now
I’m in debt and my credit
is nil!

I put off
going to the doctors
and taking my shots. The shots
I take are in a glass –
and I drink ‘em down with a lime
real fast!

I put off
visiting my dad -
saying the things
I wish I had. Now he's dead.
And the words can't be said.