To Kill Me
Hang my sweater
in the backseat of your car
and we can pretend
nothing really happened.
I don’t think of you at all
any more.
I think:
two blocks down,
the severe grandma
mends her grandson’s pants
on an old Singer: a love
chore under lamplight.
Somewhere:
a room full of people
smoking in the dark.
See how,
In my house?
In the city
I will never see–
I imagine–
night wills itself
in the way night does
Perfect day
for an Atlanta Detroit game,
the score 7 to 0,
Murphy hit 2 home runs
BUT
and there had to be a
but
8 men in a van
sweating
on the trip back
to Kentucky
with no AC
hell of an imperfect
perfect day
after
all.
On this overcast, sun-blotted
day, Coldplay’s “Clocks” brings me back to another morning,
wet and dark. Once again I am waiting at the stoplight
in front of the Shell station at 7 AM. Rain dribbles,
thunder stomps in mirrored puddles, and lightning cracks
black sky. Shimmering pools of red and green
cover the road; in their warped
reflections streetlights wobble,
Most would call such a morning dreary, but somehow
everything seemed brighter in the rain.
Maybe it was the song on the radio or the lightning where sunrise
should have been or the sparkling puddles rippled
by tire treads but whatever the cause, it was
otherworldly.
Everyday you come outside
just to yell at your children
let them play in a busy street
I cringe as cars fail to slow down
fearing the worst for them
I see your wife and the way
she always struggles to do it all
you never help her
instantly I become even more
thankful for my husband
than already before
because you’re the same
as all those men I once knew
men who are loud and obnoxious
domineering and think the world
owe them something simply
because they are man
my face becomes very loud
when I see you and I can’t help it
I swear I tried to like you,
give you the benefit of the doubt
but you disrespected me
in my own driveway
then after seeing your actions
In the light of the living room window
I can’t unsee it or you
any other way.
all of the work
had been done
the farm house
and outdoor furniture
painted
a pristine white
that he wondered
out loud
if my wife would
think him crazy
for the love
of such a color
all that was left
was to mow
create straight lines
become an empty
thing
until
it was all done
although I don’t
own the land
or the machines
it still feels good
to see what I’ve done
cut it all up
thrown it away
made something new
Oxford’s synonyms for multiplicity
strain from my searching tongue.
I’ve been disintegrating for years,
these organs long-since pooled
beyond my larger flesh. & still
I’ve needed even less—
to be a liquid further
from myself. Many friends describe
to me how the caterpillar turns
to goo, their hopeful eyes alight
on the multiplying delight of easy
metaphor. They encourage me a full
meltdown. & I can’t say I disagree.
I see this self as an emerald cut—all
fifty-seven facets divided & running
in water-green rivulets around me.
Some more synonyms for the long hall
of mirrors: crown, hummingbird.
Now, I’m hoping, all kinds of papillon.
Oh how I wish I had the ability to
pull the thoughts
from my head like a string and
transpose them onto paper.
My thoughts, these thoughts you read now,
repeat over and over
while my fingers struggle to keep up with
their cadence in my head.
The beauty of them is sometimes lost
in the moments between
inner becoming outer,
like a lacy petticoat
forgotten on the floor
in a dressing room.
Dishes are stacked
The moon is nearly full
My stonecrop
hitched in balance
on crystals and agates
A vulture, a rat,
a pigeon feather
a black cat
a lightning bug
a poison apple
A tornado of blood
A vial of inkspill
in Coleus dapple
A vision of storytelling
from another time
Being kind to everyone
will kill you, but then
Some day my prince will come
We were always told about ‘soulmates’
But I think reality may be ‘soulmate’
That one person is made for us
But it’s not promised that we are the one made for them
And if you are even lucky to find this soulmate,
You may only be meant to just experience them,
See life through their eyes
Learn how they love, how they speak,
To learn how precious time is,
How fragile love is but,
They are not always meant to stay
