seven thingsi.seven things6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the first time i came car-crash
close to telling you that i wanted
to die, you were late coming in
from your garden
and your eyes were hillsides,
skylines; i wanted to take your
gentle mouth and fill it with
twine, to puncture your throat
i wanted a secret nest.
there's no beginning to this
story, just childhood arms
scabbing over and a place
for the wrens to hide.
i am writing this in krakow.
i am writing this in a dragon of smoke.
i am writing this in a wet blue dress.
i am writing this drunk in the kitchen.
i am writing this with bad skin.
i am writing this badly.
i am writing this
like drops of water in the bath until
i get it right. crying makes you feel
old, but awake. i am running late for
art therapy, so bye
he doesn't come to the weddings
and funerals anymore, just sits
in the dark and masturbates over
old photos and grief; he knows about
science and algae and numbers, and where
my body lives when the lights are off.
he knows about my skin lain