I left

because I had to

prove it to

myself-



but I see

my reflection

in your

face, a landside.



clover from

lawns

torn with grass

and all



tied to your

wrist-

the delicate

jewelry.



pointing at

the jar

I say, this

is where honey comes from.



(I’ll never

leave you.)

I wanted to say you were beautiful

but that’s what creeps say.



I noticed dogs bark the loudest

behind their master’s fences.



I wanted to love you in person

but it’s easier when you’re away.



I did a swell job at

poisoning the well didn’t I?



I guess blood pacts

are my addiction, especially the flimsy ones.



I tried to conjure the greats
with shadow puppets on my wall.



I’m greedily repentant

I’m hungry, hungry and sorry.

sappy music

pouring slow from speakers as sap



melon head

I saw you on the bridge

50 stones from the river

and 50 stories you

recited to me



with flight response

I blindly

bitterly

flew



the sun was setting wasn’t it?

the sun

was nodding



it was slipping

into a sherbet horizon

the clouds swallowed it

like a communion

wafer



melon head how did you heal?

sun traded rolls with our lone

cold satellite

its lousy atmosphere- it’s paper thin



laugh at my soggy sway, melon head

but I was trying to balance under

those giants



50 thousand stories

50 thousand deaths

Wet Cave

I fled from the thought
the way one escapes pain through poison

wondering in cave blindness
if I could ever be patient enough

so
I save your lines
I plan to keep them close
to mine

because the more I fall in
this shroud
the more my voice falls faint

I need a stand-in
to help hold this together
to help bail water

that the cave in
its caliginous hospitality
has given me generously

my memories of our
conversation water logged and
swollen,

the ink now indiscernible
now that I can’t remember
what you said

I’m sorry but
I had to tear your face
out of my book

but at least now we know
where we stand-

with cold feet.

in dreams
we eloped

planned ceremony
of simple bands

Southern priest and
lizards basking mausoleums

my father
made us late

by puking his
stored bourbon on my gown

as I was
beating him ruthlessly

our dream
fell apart

like white bread
in milk

now I’m sweating,

sweating and I remember walking

really heavy and fat at seven-teen-

it was like ninety degrees

a walk-in oven.

what did I know then?

it feels like that time

happened to someone else,

some girl who happened to die

or fade into obscurity

with stretch marks and cesarean scars

a passive husband and grimy faced children-

but then again I catch

glimpses of that girl

in my own long mirrors

and realize it was

my life a long time ago.



so I was trying to get a job

at some grocery store

and was walking home from the *** test,

nothing to worry about

such as the vanilla life I was tame-

(a subordinate in denial)

walking from the lab in

a sweltering haze

wanting to die

frizzy hair

stuck and humid

some boy I thought I loved

some boy I thought I would die without

sleeping sound in the air conditioning

in my bed-

and I lurched on

busses passing me

with the mild hope I would never sit in one again-

and that I could please a dandruffed haired

and acne scared boy

who harvested dreams of my toil.



as I showered clean and fell

like a fleshy tree with yesterday’s make up

still clinging

beating self-loathing with sleep,

I woke a decade later,

a slim shadow free

and wish that the old me knew

what I had starved to learn-

I smile and think,

I don’t even have a picture

to remember all this by.

Cinderella Situation



there is something

totally unnerving to me

about a single abandoned shoe

in a parking lot.



where is the other one?



where is the foot- the owner?



when did this happen?



did the person have to hobble off?



They had to notice they lost a

shoe, right?



was it a Cinderella situation?

did someone race home before midnight-

lest be shamed?

would it be best if I tried the rottenflop

on every maiden’s foot in the land?



was the person kidnapped?

were they forcefully abducted and

torn away from this life-

into a sack,

calling the four walls of a car trunk

home?

are they waiting for a chance of escape

or

for the final release from ongoing pain

and terror

forever unknown to me?



so many **** questions

but the intrigue, it lingers-



did the person lose it out of a moving

car?

kicked their leg in summer bliss to the beat of song

and laughed about it later,



or



was someone fed up with the ill-fitting shoe

and chucked it,

and are now being forced to wear a mismatched pair

now that the anger has worn off

and the embarrassment has set in?



was the person crazy?

one of the many escaped or released patients

from the blocks and blocks of hospitals downtown

frothing with fading restraining medication,

and frenzied with ****** motivation-

barking at people in a single scuffed shoe-



I just realized that I still haven’t left my

car,

and have been only staring at this **** flip flop-

for a time longer than anyone should, but



it looks…chewed?



Is the owner even still alive?