Image

distance
a skilled assassin
the dead
can talk

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I Carry Three Things (One is a Lie)

I Carry Three Things (One is a Lie)

a train whistled
this morning
while I caved
on the deck
with the sun
barely undressed

are people coming home
or leaving

I wander
and carry torches
that burned out
long ago
but may still be useful
for lighting myself
on fire

if the wind proves favorable
it could go either way

hope has sunk itself
into the cracks of my skin
and it is still sensitive
with the absence
of thicker layers

winter was harsh
and lonelier than ever this year

I slid the what ifs
in my pocket
between the foil
from an empty pack of gum
and the nostalgia

my jaw hurts
from chewing both

Their Lines Do Not Answer

Their Lines Do Not Answer

after-
I question
my own motives
while you rise
like the patron saint
of lost causes
and malnourished
love beds

whose bed have you left
to stumble
into mine
half awake
with the worst of intentions
and a plan to make
my eyes drop
out of shyness

do we say nothing now
or save it
for later
when we’ve run out
of things to talk about
which we never had in common
in the first place

I prefer silence
in the morning
and my coffee slightly sweet
mostly bitter
like my men

their kaleidoscope hearts
that shift
to catch the eye of
whoever is looking
through the lens

I am ruined, my dear

order cake
and be merry
in place of freshly cut flowers-
even in death
I would avoid
the chance to hurt you

I’ve muddled stories
just now
because it’s hard
to keep track
when they all have
the same ending

my palms
turned out
to catch the cleansing rays
of the sun
while I ask them
what now is it
that you have done?

I Read a Poem Titled “The History of a Tough Motherfucker” and Now I Have a New Mantra

I Read a Poem Titled “The History of a Tough Motherfucker” and Now I Have a New Mantra

I will go hard
and never go home
my inner thighs
will never be sore
from holding my tail
between them

I will shout
at the wind
and make it flinch,
laugh
at a hurricane
because I am as strong
as it is

I will beat
at the ground
with fists,
I will move
mountains
as easily as I breathe in

I will fight
when held down,
keep kicking long after
my legs want to
give out

they’ll say:

mind your business
she’s one tough
motherfucker
and you’ll sink
in her quicksand