More poems (from various times)
severed head
i dreamt of you last night:
your severed head was on my coffee table in my living room — i don't even have a coffee table, nor a living room — but there it was, nestled
with books and mugs in need of washing
and a TV remote,
and you were fine.
quite happy in fact,
and telling me with great excitement
about everything your body was doing
the hookup
intoxicated and spent and lungs burning like heaven i wander into where is your bathroom again? across the hall, i make way for across the hall you said? yes, let me get dressed, and i make way for it head spinning arms twisting lithe and i spy myself in the mirror so pretty and young. brace myself on your countertop, piss in your disgusting toilet bowl and step accidentally on a towel shot through with filth. is this what my people live like? watered down soap to stretch between checks is this what my people live like, is this how we live. and in the darkest corner of another room a tiny silver screen, your roommate, i think, is pupating? turning fast into something else, i'm sure, and a tender moment lasts forever when you nearly drift asleep my fingers in your hair, and why can't i seem to meet your eyes? your eyes trace the shape of me, your lips trace the words you're pretty like everyone's do, and you stopped in the middle to call my cheekbones feminine, loving phrenology generous you. and now? now we're crossarmed shit shooting at the bus stop after i found my damn glasses in my damn purse again, kissing awkward stumbling like two big dumb rams, and yesterday they chopped up one of our girls so pretty so young so we swap spit at midnight in a faraway town. is this how we live? i was pupating, drowned, and i sliced through the cocoon, open door slavering, spit strung cross your thighs and you apologized, sighed, said it's time you went home, and a car rumbled by and honked and growled and howled lupine and you so big and chivalrous and strong big enough to break my candy cane spine you brag about fighting and fearlessness and never paying fares, you legs wide shoulders square admitted you were scared and i, somewhere else and furtive checking the moon like a clock face on high, cracked a joke about how our people live, and bus here goodbye, kept my head down, down in the dark and meeting no eyes for the rest of that enemy night.
luck
if i’m not unlucky
you will remain
in whispers and messages and images of you i can hold
in my locket
if i’m not unlucky
you will persist
in papers and puttering and caring for
your precious things
if i’m lucky, thinly lucky
you'll be here
far away, wiring kisses and heartbeats
from your world to mine
if i’m lucky, so lucky
i’ll be by your side
for an evening
your side
catching moon in your eyes
and if by divine intervention
i’m lucky
stupendously lucky, exceedingly so
i’ll carry you through an evening
to a morning, in my arms
through a week, through a season, through a year
to my car
to the altar, my love, a tree stump
and a candle
in those lightless woods
in dresses, in smiles
through miles of nothing
through ruin
and heartbreak
through nothing
i'll carry you home