Pearls

diving for pearls beneath the surface

of your shadow, finding fingerprints
along your back and shoulder
blades, and I was the one
who put them there

and they are pearl-shaped holes
punched pretty in the skin
behind your ears, the clearing
made by you and me in
forests deeper green
than we could see

beside the sea
we sat and dipped our toes
inside, your ink and splatters
marking me with sand
my flattened hand across
your back, your pearls are strung
along my neck

goodnight, and close
your eyes. good
night.

Honeysuckle Darling

pull it out from inside, you

put something inside me
a pinch of poison like lime
juice, squeezed in a cut
but it tastes so
sweet doesn’t it

sweet like the chestnut
in your coffee eyes, or
were they ocean green?
my skin was cream
and yours was sugar white
that night

but nevermind the time, my
honeysuckle darling (whose
stamen sinks into my tongue
and leaves a nectar then behind –
and only that, a nectar,
nothing more to cling to after)

Fishing

it started with a line

of fishing thread from your
nodding head to my oar
slicing into water, rippled
into me by you

and it grew into a little
flame. a kindled breath we
exhaled into life and you
had the thimble on your thumb
that snuffed the light right
out

it ended with a sigh
a fissure down our backs alone
apart from you, from my
bones or muscles or the curve
of your nose

and it left me with a little
heart. a shriveled piece of plastic
that I tie with short elastic
bits, to help it get back-
wards in time, resembling
what I was with you

Before We Begin

you should know that I
will fall too
far too
fast for you
that poetry will leak
out from my hands, my feet
into your skin before
you are prepared to
handle this mess. I
will stand on you(r
feet while we dance)
just to keep from
tripping on my own
wires,  and I
will expect far too
much from you far too
early. I cannot tell
you that I am worth
the trouble, because
god only knows whether
I actually
am.
But,
I can say that there is a color
inside my eyes, and
you cannot see it unless
you are very near to my face,
and it might just be lovely
enough to wait for.

A Tissue You've Used

I wonder how I

look, when you have
had me have
seen my nooks
my crannies, have
touched my corners
and soft edges,
do I look still 

fresh, ablaze from

somewhere deep
within, or do I
look a bit like a
tissue
you’ve used

52.

what was I wearing
on my face, that made you
tell me I would be
all right

was it a mask
that had fallen
could you see it
on the floor

did I leave
myself in the open
did you catch
a glimpse of me

how did I look
with the lights on, and
did you feel
uncomfortable

well it was not my intention
to show me off
so I apologize for
my nakedness

my muscles must have grown
tired of holding
my weight, and dropped
the curtain

but don’t worry
it is up again

51.

it was a dream of a wasp
in my hair, like you wear
me around your neck
and take me off in
the evenings

I was pulling you through
a thousand strands, pulling
a dead wasp out
of a hundred braids

and it was a dream of
you and your hands and your
hands, covering
me up

I was saying stop
no, I was saying I can’t
hold a pain like this
in just one body, so
your smile

faded
and I walked out

50.

the things that are left
behind right
under the bed
sheets, crumpled

you left me at two
in the afternoon
I left him at two
in the morning

broken teeth, broken
kissing crack-lipped mouths
not well, but
fast. hard and

fast like I’d hold you
if you let me, I’d love
you left
your hairs behind

and so the cycle
goes, whiskers grow
from dying cheeks to
feel
to feel, to
feel just any
thing

49.

there is a secret beneath
the ground that twines
the tree roots
and it is the name of my knees
and the air as they open

a grassy smell from
somewhere below me
I kneel in moss and slugs spread
their mucus on my red lips to taste
the earth

lately I have been finding
cigarette butts inside my clothes outside
my skin, my heart
is pumping something
that is not blood

I cannot smell like you I
will not smell like you
anymore. your
swan song fades against the gray
against my back against yours

and we somehow cannot see
each other’s faces now
my only line of vision leads along
a wire to the ground, the grime
of rusted metal

and your ghost tugging
my hair. Oh, I just want
to feel the something of you
the grass or the ground or the
taste of a slug on my lips

Salt

I have lost the taste
of the salt of you
it stung my tongue for so long
with the sweet ache of your tang
in my breath
in your sea
and I drowned

now you are leaking from the corners
of my eyes and out of the small
of my back as I twist and
grind myself into a pulp beneath
him
and tell me
if you prick me
do I not bleed your water
from my lips
and deflate

I will bury you
in the salty dunes of
his sweat, and
hold your memory beneath
the surface, until it fades
and ripples, soft, away

48.

call me catatonic but I swear
this was the last thing I expected to find under your fingernails
the grime of those ugly six words you said you couldn’t stand to write
but you went ahead and wrote them, didn’t you.
see, there was something about the sticker burrs in your eyes
something about the tip of your tongue and the race of your fingers against mine
and the way I got drunk off your breath
something that made me just want to curl up and sleep under the lamps you lit
and call it a goddamn day.
but you ripped that rug right out from under my feet.

so I’ll give you back your headband, and your see-through t-shirt and your spare contact solution
and I’m not gonna ask for a kiss in return.
because I’d like to believe I don’t need it.
and even if I do, even if I ache for it, even if I’m parched for your sweat,
even if I’d rather see your clothes making trails through my kitchen than the sun coming up tomorrow,
even if I know my knees were made to quake in your absence
and I’d give just about everything to hear your voice in my sleep one more time,
you had better believe I will fake this detached smile until it latches onto something real.

47.

paralysis leaks down my limbs
starting from the ribcage, the
heart and lungs, and creeping cold
across the paths of blood and tissue
settling, at last, inside my toes

oh yes, my love,
I would by lying if I said
I was alive
for you have slowed my breath

I feel my pulse drone weary
carrying the sting of heartache
into each corner of my body
but wait, and soft,
I hear a flutter somewhere in the deep

for no, my love,
I would be lying if I said
I had been killed
as you are but a chapter in this book

For You

This is for you, baby.
For every drop of poison I bled from my eyes last night,
For the promises we whispered into one another’s mouths,
For all the shades of gray with which you painted me,
This is for the taste of your skin, and my fingers slicing into it.
This is for you.
This is for the next hot piece you’ll fuck when I’m gone,
For every flower petal you’ll never let me weave into your hair,
For the passion you said you swore was never there, but baby,
You’re lying to yourself.
Because I
Am
Passionate
About you.
And every time you hear my voice over your shoulder,
I want you to think of me kissing you in places you don’t talk about.
I want you to remember the gold flecks in my eyes,
And the color of my hair in moonlight,
And all the parts of me that you are giving up.
Because if this goodbye is what you really want,
Then by all means.
Take it.
I’ve made it just for you.
And if you don’t love me anymore,
Grow the fuck up and tell me.
Braid your gaze into mine and tell me.
Hold my hands harder than you hold your cards to your chest,
And tell me.
Because I bathed you in silver light,
I smoothed roses over your skin,
I kissed the scars they left behind,
And god knows I deserve better than this.
So this is for you.
For the secrets you hold dearer than you held me,
For the walls you built that you can’t get out of,
For the miserable fucking waste you’re making of what we had,
Just hold on tight to whatever is helping you fall asleep.
Because for every one of these black letters that knocks the wind from your lungs,
Remember that there is a matched set punching holes into me.
For every bee sting you find swelling purple on your skin,
Remember the reasons you put it there.
Remember that this tangled mess is a mass of your vines,
Remember that I would have pierced my right hand for you,
Remember that I loved you more than my own bullshit,
And remember that you gave it all away for something more exciting.
And if you really have to say it,
Then for Christ’s sake,
Please,
Just look me in the eyes already,
And tell me
You don’t want me
Anymore.

The Lady Heartache

be careful, son, I said
there exists a serpentine figure and her name
rhymes with trap, trick, and trouble
she will wrap you up in blankets
and call you sweet
but honey, she will break your heart
and she won’t tell you why

she comes in forms as fine as feathered pillows
and she sleeps inside you when
you least expect it
but don’t mistake her, son
she calls the other boys while she’s kissing your neck
and you won’t feel a thing
until she bites you, I swear

so step lightly and watch your ankles
especially in tall grasses, and the sea
because she’ll sneak inside your socks
and wriggle up your legs
and nest in places you don’t want to feel
like the crevices under your ribcage
or the base of your neck

be careful, son, I said
she’s out there as we speak
and she will break your heart
but she won’t tell you why

Flight

I felt my feathers stretching
quill to tip (a melody inking
my skin with blotted notes of
varying colors and sizes), a
wingspan ever-growing from
between my shoulder blades
as our car took flight and soared
over a country road, with moon above
and tiny flecks of human life below.

I had never seen you
look at me
that way before

but you were lovely by starlight
with smoke meandering through
your teeth and lips, and a
light between your fingers as
they flitted from breath to breath
along the torrent breeze outside
our windows. You seemed, to me,
as weightless as the harmonies kissing
and swimming inside my ears.

I had never seen you
look at me
that way before

and I loved you then
as though it had been the first time
when, in truth, I had seen
the glow around you
a thousand times already.

Stranger #1

he speaks
slowly
as though each letter catches
under his tongue
and trips his lips
as they try to form
coherent thoughts

he breaks his syllables
in half, sometimes
and new sounds jut
from between his
teeth, unbidden

I listen as he wades
through word after word
as ideas meander
(on their own time)
to his throat, and make their way
out, presenting themselves
quite gracefully
in the end

and I wonder how his mouth works
when it kisses
or whether, when he writes,
he hears his voice

46.

I find it remarkable
how often I feel
as though I am
replaced
with my former self,
the toddler who sobs
when taken to swimming lessons,
and, separated from her
mother,
quakes in fear
at the prospect of
drowning
(alone)

Stung

You have stung me,
left your barb in
my thinner flesh
and flown away. What
have I left, without you,
but a violet boil
from which I must suck
your sweetest poison
and nurse my shredded
heart to health
in your wake.

I am not prepared
to bid you, black and yellow
bumblebee, goodbye
and watch you slide
out of my line of
vision, leaving naught but
your buzz in my ear, and
a memory of
your winged flutter
on my cheek.

So I will not
let you float away
so easily.
I will pluck your stinger
from my skin
and sew it back into
your body. I carry your venom
inside me, but I will let
you keep what is yours.

For bees, as they sting,
must die.
But I refuse
to be the death
of you.

Essence

Her essence took up space in my nose, in my vision and speech. Her violet touch had left prints and stains inside my eyelids; her footprints could be found throughout the inner seams of my clothing. She left a pungent stamp on my skin, like perfume from a lily's stamen, dragging scent paths across the wooden floors of my bedroom. I drank her essence into my lungs, pulled it deep into the crevices of my stomach. I rolled in the folds of her imprint and tattooed it into my arms and feet. I reveled in her.