the bathroom stall
where two new lovers gave it all
away,
left,
and never spoke again

the stage lights in high school auditoriums
that burn out
within the minute you turn them on

Just a little makeup
and that way they won’t know–
some concealer on my cheeks
and my hair placed just so.



Perhaps a little more,
so I can feel who I am inside;
to distract myself from chest hair
and bruises to hide.

But everywhere,
on my neck: brown
on my body: purple
on the wall: red,
no makeup can hide.
God knows I’ve tried;
he just doesn’t listen.
I’ve longed to confide
in a word from his book
but the text suggests
his infallibility.
I know that’s a lie.
He is imperfection– just as I
am imperfection
on the outside.

the ****** dispenser at the mall
that now dispenses
children's toys

Alyssa moves like she’s being watched
and watching me,
but the white-walled room, despite her husband’s presence
is empty.
Everything echoes.

Alyssa and I have serenaded the dead and dying weekly.
Today is no exception.
She performs, I just sing–
are my songs really any emptier than hers?
We and the dying clasp hands in a circle
and mimic a psychic raising of the dead.

Alyssa and I have sat through the same
cut-and-dry
hour-long condemnations
all our lives,
but she bought in and now moves
like she’s being watched,
at which I scoff.

Alyssa is not allowed into Business Meetings
because of sexist Paul,
and I make this known to a friend
I trust now more than Alyssa,
now happily chatting with the guy I was eying.

Alyssa’s father takes me aside
for inquisition.
I confess of my sin, but I do not repent.

Alyssa found out, and now my existence is *******.

Are you a lie?
Are you ashamed?
Have you given up?
Who drowned you in that murky water,
saying "Nobody has to know?"

Step in, step in!
Your weary eyes don't match your expression;
let me help you stitch up your style.
Rid yourself of this black concealer!
Are you even there?

Why do you torture yourself in the corner?
Your eyes glaze over when I walk by;
sometimes I wonder if you have gone blind.

Dig, deep and wide, the void that you try so hard to fill,
and bury the past that has possessed you;
bury the loved ones who ****** you.
The enemies of the empty closet whisper,
"Nobody has to know."
But everyone has to know
because you torture yourself in the corner;
your eyes glaze over when I walk by;
sometimes I wonder if you have gone blind.

Why do you torture yourself in the corner?
Your eyes glaze over when I walk by;
sometimes I wonder if you have gone blind.

Virginia and Maxwell are the skin that will grow
together to cover the wound,
and I am the IV.

“This will only take a few minutes,”
I reassure them as
the vein is struck.
So much blood fills the bag
in five short seconds.

I remove the needle
and trek across hospital halls,
up and down elevators,
through pristine rooms,
to the Intensive Care Unit,
to a dying man
named Anthony
in dire need of a transfusion.

“This will only take a few minutes,”
the vein is struck.
The jealous blood exits the bag
in five short seconds.
But I wish they were at least years.