sometimes enough
chased you
out of every corner
took broom and mop
and a chunk of change
to make things new, every
thing a thing that you had never seen,
a thing
you had never touched.
finding little pieces
splinters
isn’t so often now
but each one
is dug out
carefully.
because they still
sting.
you left a slugtrail
over every
surface
it took bleach and
work, so much
work.
but finally
finally
i
might
be
clean.
i know you saw
my empty bed
sheets red like fire
covers tossed
two pillows, both smashed.
i know you wondered
if it was shared
or if i sleep rough
the way i did
when you were here.
i know you stood there
and looked.
i caught you at it, and that
was when i decided
you could go, i
moved you down the hall
and out the door, you were
dazed
and i,
triumphant.
did you think
i’d be sleeping
on the floor?
do you wonder
who keeps me
company at night?
go ahead, wonder.
you lost the right to know.
i had a house
and a job
and i could take a punch.
thought it was enough
until it occurred
a rose in snow, the
blood on the floor
and i knew
he might not kill me
but i couldn’t take the
chance.
now i’ve got a job
minimum, yeah, and
i drink a lot of it.
the apartment’s small
but it’s mine
and the man
i moved in with
is off the lease.
which means
i threw the lifejacket
away. but i don’t
drown.
much.
at night
when i wake
in a cold sweat
wondering
if i waxed the kitchen
floor good enough
or if he was going
to be in a mood
coming home
i see the nightlight
la Virgin in her blue robe
smiling.
and it only
takes a shot or two
to get back to sleep.
yeah, it’s better.
the most i can expect.
i had it.
a perfect poem.
but there was life.
there was the job
the errands
the cleaning up
the business of
going on
and on
and by the time
i got around
to it
everything evaporated.
can’t even remember
the keyword.
god and virgin
why cover up
the essential
with so much crap?
i know there’s
always more
hiding
inside my bones.
but i wanted that
one.
and i resent it
so badly
i could murder.
but who?
so i sit here
take another drag
let the smoke out
and write this
for you.
don’t wait.
grab it
when it comes.
i sit on my balcony
aching feet up at last.
this is the moment
because i can sit
watch the old couple
with their hibachi
and their silence, everything
already said;
watch the boys in loose groups,
showing off for
girls with teased hair;
watch the breeze touch
greenery and smell
other people’s
dinners. i can see
the cars slide in
and out. each one
a story, each neighbor
a complex little world.
all the dinner i need
is here
on the balcony
with the amber liquid
in the jd bottle
and the smoke from
a pall mall.
i worked overtime
for this. the sun’s
ship has sunk
and the light
for almost an hour
is magic.
for that hour
nobody bores me.
yeah, it’s worth
paying the rent
on this crappy
little place.
i take another drink
take another drag
and wait for dark.
i drove all the way there
and when i reached the river
tea-brown and deep
i got out.
slammed my door.
i sat on the hood
one smoke, two.
the ring glittered
like the sunlight
was a spear-challenge.
the tree whispered. shade
speckled my arms
like bruises, dappled
my breasts like
your mouth.
when i could stand
without shaking
i drew back my fist
let it fly.
you taught me
how not to throw
like a girl.
the ring sank
without a ripple.
i smoked another one
and drove back home.
the shouldn’t call it getting old.
they should call it:
learning to speak
either less or more.
learning to trust
the right people.
learning beauty isn’t
in a magazine.
developing faith
in your capability.
figuring out where
your energy should go.
no, they shouldn’t
call it “getting old”.
they should call it
surviving the jungle
of youth.
panting
wide-eyed
red in tooth
and claw
i’m getting there.
i told him
that i loved you
as hard as i could
and it wasn’t enough.
he said
“some people just
have holes inside.
all the love runs
out, or vanishes.
it’s a hat trick
only the rabbit
is a black hole.”
we sat there for a few
moments. the nightlight
glowed.
and then i poured
him another drink.
“you’ve earned this one,” i said.
signing papers
making small talk
drinking coffee
more papers
more coffee
more talk talk talk
being grownup
it’s scary
especially when
they have the computers
and the judging
and the applications
and the slicked-down hair
but i got home
took my shoes off
looked at what
i’d done and thought
there is no going back
this is where i break
everything and remake it
this is where
i say
i’m a big kid now
and there was
relief
that i didn’t have
to live up to anything
but my own
tick-tocking heart
in a few years
i’m going to
want someone.
i’ll want someone
real, something
to hold onto.
someone
who can live
with me
and pick up
his own damn trash.
in a few years
i’ll want to
leave the door
open
maybe for a
stray, maybe
for a show.
when the time
comes, they’ll
show, lured
to honey.
maybe i’ll want one.
and maybe not.
i like
living alone.
in my sweats
watching a
movie
and nobody’s
filth to clean
but my own.
oh someday though
if i find the right
stray, i’ll invite
him in.
nothing says
i have to let
him stay.
