44.

I watched the moon and mused last night
I think
I just get sad sometimes

I hear my fingers dripping threads of rain
and pooling at my feet
wonder whether my eyelashes are real
and memories are gone
so what remains

silver beads of sweat along my arms and legs
I could say it was beautiful
but
I just get sad sometimes

and sunset orange turns to gray
what shone before is now caked with dirt
what sang now sleeps
and where have my daydreams gone

I feel my flowers drooping
nodding quietly and slinking
stems browning at the ends
leaves crinkle sideways

I watched four days roll past the window
no words to offer them
no effort
nothing real
nothing golden
because
I just get sad sometimes

Sinister Kid

check out these radical scars on my arms
all this gnarly blood between my elbows
isn’t it cool?
isn’t it cool?

god-damnit, I said look at me
look at what I’ve done
I cut myself all up for you
put my metallic tang on your tongue

and it’s bitter, isn’t it

yeah, I’m the girl who fucked the rules
who chugged the booze and kissed the morning sky goodbye
good morning, apathy
another day rolls by
another opportunity to break my knees

sure, blame it on my diagnoses
call it a name and feed it some pills
put Vaseline on my scrapes and walk away
I dare you

I’ve got heat left in my mouth from the skin it’s sucked
bruises on my wrists still from the ties that bound me
look how I ruined my Sunday clothes
look how I smeared my lipstick
showing up to church hung over again

fuck what you have to say

my halo’s broken anyway

Emily

I watched her feet play tricks on the yielding grass below
Dancing atop each blade
Toeing the flower petals where they lay
I watched her braid daisies into necklaces for us to wear
Pouring silver starshine into lily cups when the sun fell
Delicate wings unfolding from between her shoulder blades
Fluttering slightly every other moment
I watched her pull the moonbeams here and there for spotlights
Teach the spiders to weave
I watched her celebrate
Drawing circles with her breath in my hands
Painting murals on her skin with the morning dew
Saplings nodding at her approach
Toads and badgers nipping at her tiny ankles
I watched her blossom slowly
Sunrise yellow and blue
I watched her spin my skin into a thousand sparkling rivers

Viola

She strung the curves of her body and began to play
Pouring forth frothy golden melodies and fine spun silk from her hips and breast
Weaving tapestries of luminescent green from strands of her hair
Rich baritone and clear birdsong alike wafted on her breath
Hollow carvings swept along her waistline
Thin and tenuous strings followed the slope of her neck
No fingers but hers could coax such music from beneath her skin
She was no accompaniment
She was a symphony
And no fingers but hers,
No fingers but hers

43.

I was not afraid,
no, I was not afraid
tonight
to walk back home alone
at 2 am without you

no

I was wrapped inside
this lavender haze
of kisses grins and puppy eyes
and wine
yes,
plenty plenty of that wine

which ties us closer
than we realize we
could be ever
yes, before

no, I was not afraid
to walk back home alone

I was floating far too high
above myself
and buoyed by your touch
above the sidewalk
drifting on your love
above the ground

cliché, cliché
yes, I know that this is
perfectly cliché

and perfectly
I am okay
and yours

oh,
oh.
and I am
yours.

Wash

I’d like to take a bath in candle wax but
I’d like to sit here with my dirty hair
and tell you you’re pretty

everything sounds like I’m drugged out
echoes pressing plastic wrap waves in my ears
everyone reads these poems, god knows why.

I’d like to just be
washed
washed
washed
bathed and cleansed and sung to

and swaddled

bring me your salts and back scrubbers
the suds to make me bright
the subtle cloths you’ll graze across my skin
bring me my rebirth

open my bones enough to peek inside
figure out what’s fluttering wildly
figure out what’s missing in there
figure out what’s broken

take it out and wash it
put it back inside
seal me up

repair me, my melancholy lover
mend my emptiness
and make me clean

Eulogy

what happened to our hearts
where went my aliveness
my dead is all that remains

so many dewdrops flushed down the plumbing
so many kisses ripped off our lips
cheap Velcro in the garbage

I’m just trying to be honest
lovely you
I promise

something curled between us and perished
slowly, cancerous and fading
its ghost still coming back to sting us

but once we were free
isn’t that right?
did I imagine this all?

once we were fresh and reckless
all cigarette smoke and tinkling bells
free beer in the moonlight

we must be out there somewhere still
perhaps someone new picked us up
changed our names

perhaps a teenager is using us for his own
for a time, until he dies, too
and then the three of us will float away again

at least we’re being resurrected somehow
by young people with pink fingers
we were young once together

and I am sorry this is what we have made of us.

I Will Come To You

when my soles are tired
and my hips are empty
when my eyelashes are blue
I will come to you

when the traps ensnare me
and my bones break down
when we forget what is true
I will come to you

when my heart turns cold
and misses older heat
when I am finished pushing through
I will come to you

when my flowers wilt
and the rain gives chase
when there is room for nothing new
I will come to you

when my harness snaps at last
and tethers stretch and break
when I have lost my hue
I will come to you

when the sky falls fast in shingles
and the ocean boils out
when Armageddon does ensue
I will come to you

when I’ve used up all my tokens
and I am left with only my own knees
when I cannot see me breaking through
I will come to you

when you’ve lost track of your feet
and the road grows rough
when you’re out of paths to turn to
I will come to you

You Deserve Better

smoking electricity between your sheets
and listening to your exes call you names
look at what they've all become
see the great things that they've done
(or not)

I want to write these poems across your forehead
across your chest
and make those assholes read them back to you
out loud
tell you how beautiful you are
tell you how perfect you are

you with your copper flowers
twisted heartstrings
plucked and fucked
they never deserved to skin your knees

and all I have is ugh
what liars

your frayed edges are precious to me
and I would fight for them
yeah, too soon, maybe
but I would kill for them

I would kill your broken songwriters and excuses for men
don't you worry, baby.
I've got more of a cock than they do.

Get Behind Me

you gold dust woman, you hateful thing
you stretched your tendril tentacles into my life
wrapped your sting around the wrinkles of my brain
and set your poison deep inside

and we never even meant a thing
no we never even meant a thing

(isn’t that right, darling?)

do you remember?
the time you said goodbye to me, goodbye
goodbye back to you, gold dust woman
with your ink blackness lurking in the background
you think you own me

I promise you, we never even meant a thing.

did you want to remind me?
was that what you wanted?
to pick me up and throw me around again,
to bring your stink back to me, to fold me up?

“I’m still here”
you say
“I’m still here”

and I
do
not
want
you

no one asked you to come
not now, not now

get back, you gold dust woman, you shapeless form
you fancy yourself a seductress
but all I see is soiled sheets and bloody napkins
you brought me in, you thought, you brought me
and I left, I left, I left, I left, I left

but was that too much for you, sweetie?
because you knew, yes, I was the best thing you ever had
your broken kneecaps won’t find the warmth I gave you
in those other thousand mouths you’ve kissed

everywhere I turn,
everywhere I turn
I see another one

have you seen the mirror, little girl?
do you look inside and find disgust and twisted hair?
feeble attempts at reconciliation?
is that what you tell yourself?
is that how you sleep at night?

well, whatever helps.

I want you to remember what I told you
those nights, when no one else would hold you
I want you to recoil in your glorious misery when you remember
how I asked you for your secrets
how I begged you for your ugly parts
how I wanted you so badly
not just all the pretty yellow boots you give the others
but the bathtub tragedies you never say out loud
the heaving sorrow you stuffed back down
the words that cut your arms like straight razors
the men that scarred you
the hands that beat you
the hopes that died deep in your breast
I loved you
I loved you
and you
said
no

well now I’m saying no, you pretty little Jezebel
I’m walking out like you did
doesn’t it seem familiar?

back off, gold dust woman.
I am free of you.

Christ's Mass

He is the tar black shadow roiling in pitch darkness
He is coming, silently the serpent coiling toward us
He is squealing warning trills to Sinning Peoples
He is the newborn screaming through wrinkled red lips
He is exalted, He is exalted
and who were we to say?

who brought Him here, to what end?
what were we to do?

worship, worship, worship
holy of holies
King of King of Kings
like Solomon
or Herod

He approaches pacing pad-like all around us
He waits for tender flesh His saber teeth may slash
He watches cold and heartless with a glinting eye
He is the newborn retching into manger scenes
He is exalted, He is exalted
and who were we to know?

all Men are made of water
so let us pray to Women instead
for they are tree bark strong and iron fast

42.

I want to tell you
all the things I know
I especially want to tell you
all the things I don't
want to tell you
those are the things
I want to tell you the most

Winter Song

I have given you a flower that only blooms in winter
it thrives in layered frost, fairies skating on its spreading petals
little rinks like engagement rings
it sleeps in summer, waiting for the chill
of December to coax it into life
and remind it of the miraculous cold
the ice, the ice
the wind
the breath of vigor in the early months
when the world is waking up
again

keep it safe
for it is yours
and only yours now
and it is fragile

I traced myself into its stem
so do not cut the thorns
this flower, with its dusky hues and frozen dew,
is my rib, my wrist, my right hand
my quiet parts that rise up in the velvet dark of winter
the velvet quietness
of the first merciful freeze of January
the freeze, the frozen place
inside my palm
and it will bloom in yours
but only yours

keep it safe
for it is yours
and only yours now

and it is fragile

Moon Song

I promised
I would be your
moon.
(not stars,
not sun)

I will be Her
light
for you.

I will find
(your)
darkness,
make it glow

(a pale blue love)

I will be
round
for you,
bigger than your fears
I will be
everywhere
you are

silent and fresh air

guiding
cool and never
bright
but quiet
I will
illuminate
your steps

I will
stroke you(r
hair)
with moonbeam fingers

I will be
everything
you
thought
you would never


find

on


Earth

Jack and Sally

where you can always find us
curled together in a yellowed sofa
breathing
and I hope this night will never end
this start of something flowering and soft
living in patchwork clothes from dawn to midnight
sewing up our smiles
building new things together
you’re dusk in winter months
and your backbones underneath
my hands feel cold and inviting
like frosted berries
branches chilled bare
smoothed with ice and sleeping
I will wait for you
and hope this never ends
and hope this never ends

The Faerie Queen

whatever it may be
my little apple tree
I will carry it for you
with broken hands
but hands still
I don’t know how you found it
my dark blue echo voice
my call into the quiet
but you touched my throat
and pulled forth from it a swallow song
you’ve written poems on my skin
and for that
I’ll color you dusky violet
sing you baritone and rich
trace you delicate along your outline
and weep you into life
as best I can
for you, my sweet, for you
are all the bests of me
I’ll bring to you the tree we found
with blossoms hanging heavy
thick in air of pear-sweet honey
humming softly free
my faerie queen
for you.

Sunday Morning Glories

bring me Sunday morning glories
hymnal books of cracking leather
softer black and golden

you knew me, yes
my raven love
you broke me in
now I have found my wings

it’s not much,
it’s not much

here, hold my Sunday flowers
while I step aside with her
there are things to say, to say

I have thumbed through dirt floors
trading fingerprints for puzzle pieces
misplaced years ago
all in vain

here, take what’s left
I’m left here robbed of mislaid parts
forgotten where I left them

I’m not much,
I’m not much

stick myself to you with Sunday school glue
you give me all the answers
Jesus, God, and Bible verses

mister preacher, may I be excused
I must linger in the back with blushing lips
may I press my lips on hers
and blush

she’s too much,
she’s too much

now let us pray
you caught me there, sweet thing
I saw your eyelids snap

this was all a dream, I fear
here, take these folded paper hearts
I wrote my name inside them here and there
it’s short, but pretty

pretty dresses, bows in back
crossing fingers behind pews and telling secrets
share this song with me

so much is missing,
so much is missing