honeymoons over

You used to be my teareater,

and slurped salty drops from

my eyes. Where is that man?

Where does he go? How can

he sit silent while you

shout for me to shut the 

fuck up and go.

marriage #2

Won't you say it's all me?

That there ain't no one to blame

but me? The island in the sun,

burning desire for something more.

Say I say vile things and spin around,

again it's me. Dried up, turned out.

A figment of all that is wrong .

Call to me, yell at me, from the

other room, it is all I know of

how adults do. Pout and fluster,

at my questions and, yes, I will cry. 

You never taking a moment for

an inquiry into why. Just scoff

That I'm a baby. It must be true

by now. I hold my breath for

that end, the final payout.

Sometimes your loaded gun

that sleeps tucked in between us

speaks to me at night, the third

party to our marriage lie.

bans

Kindle that French fury

which tips your hand

as citizens flip cars.

Burn for we are but

sketches of our former 

selves of fuzzy frame.

imaginary friends

Imagine feeling wanted

for once in your small life,

I never have, but would

like to try.

women's work

My heart can't take the toll

Required for my body to survive

Jump ship to sinking ship,

Reacting across the pond

Don't need Spanish, just need

to understand you, my captain.

cast a net

Feel that pendulum sway

to the beat of the new

ancestors' breasts?

Pulsing for supple

support, the supplemental

love through screens and

streams of music, my

vitamin, I don't share.

My friends are wavelengths,

radiowaves, never waver

when it hammers down.

Was I ever ever loved, most

wholly and truly me, is it real

on outside that kitchen door?

It couldn't be. 

crying in the shower alone still

You will never be gentle with me,

that much is clear, so if my

own husband won't use kid gloves,

how can I expect anyone in

the wooden world to?

foreign

I walk heavy on my feet

cause my legs 

are my mother's.

Pale, staunt, sprouts,

covered in convenience 

legs, thick.

These bumps I felt before,

the stumble scratch

not my own,

These are my mother's legs,

not my own.