a nick on his wrinkled face
that doesn't stop bleeding.
Held by a piece of tissue in place.
His hairline receding.

I'll be
the hemorrhoid in his pants
that doesn't stop growing.
He talks in slants.
The probity not showing.

I’ll be
a floating eyelash in his almond eye
that doesn't stop making him blink.
An elephant stain on his square tie,
the spilled splotch of ink.

I'll be
the throbbing headache
that doesn't stop pounding.
He cannot shake
that which is bounding.

before the body dance
lit me up
like Paris France.
The waltz of a hand grenade
left my limbs flung and frayed.

Should have left
before he pressed his mouth
of pearls as he had former girls
in stacks of blazing kisses
from my cherry lips
down past my rolling hips.

Should have left
in the first embrace,
before his arms held me
in place.

Should have left
at hello!
But the iridescence
of his almond eyes
surrounded me like fireflies.

One More
temerarious lie
one more
supercilious reply
one more
unanswered call
one more
hyperbolic stall
one more
slammed door
one more
overstuffed drawer
one more
fitful sleep
one more
day I weep
one more
promise broken
one more
day we haven't spoken


One Less
smiling extol
one less
united goal
one less
card to buy
one less
steak to fry
one less
bed to make
one less
****** to fake
one less
***** dish to scrub
one less
ring around the tub
one less
lipstick stain on his collar
one less
night we fight and holler

out a hot hairy hole
in gasping contractions
****** and wet
stunned by doctors reactions.

I was pushed
out the chipped painted red door
wearing a polyester backpack, holding books
put on a yellow city bus
children shooting me harrowing looks.

I was pushed
into smoking cigars and cigarettes
drinking vanilla ***** nips and cans of beer
just to fit in.
So, they wouldn't call me a square.

I was pushed
into the metal lockers at school
by plump smart-*** girls,
and home by my wrinkled faced mom
who was ugly and cruel.

I was pushed
into marrying my first boyfriend
at the young age of twenty.
My friends were dating wild country boys
while I was counting every penny.

I was pushed
beyond limits
when my oldest son lost his mind
two years in a hospital bed
bedridden and blind.

I was pushed
into therapy
against my will
then ***** by the therapist
and charged with the bill.

I was pushed
till I pushed back.
Now I stand up for myself,
put my life back on track.

pictures of us
the poetry books
all his clothes
the ties off the hooks

I have burned
the soles of my feet
pacing the floors
the sauce on the stove
letters in drawers

I have burned
a hole in the carpet
from an unlit cigarette
like the one in my nightie
waking up in cold sweat

I have burned
the palm of my hand
spilling the tea
but I cannot burn
this haunting memory

in the eye
till the lid closes into a slit
colored black and blue
swollen like a tennis ball
so, my eyeglasses do not fit
but he'll not take me down a whit

He can punch me
in the mouth
give me a big fat lip
knock my teeth out north and south
but he'll not crack me with drouth
on my radar he's a blip

He can punch me
in the gut
till my innards are mashed potatoes
and the blood clots like squashed tomatoes
into a sauce
it's his loss

gagging on
on his lies. The fire in
his eyes embers
she dismembers

holding a fountain
pen. Black ink meeting
Zen. Bagging this reptile,
words her projectile. Pages

forest trees, rolling
banana leaves. Her pen
skis, flying down his
back. Leaving colored tracks

from the slaughter.
He fought her. But the long
tongue giant fell since
her lines did jell.