he held a second mirror so I could see myself walking away

he held a second mirror so I could see myself walking away

I know you
like the back of my
knee that I see maybe
once a week
with a razor and a rinse of warm water.
I know you like the buttons
up the back of my dress.

Our pulse points
have been neglected. I miss
that morning touch of perfume
slow down the side of my neck
and on each wrist, ear, elbow,
knee, ankle, like a daily inventory
of the most vulnerable skin
where flesh is thin and blood runs
close to the edge of me.

Do you remember how Steffi
would spray a fragrant cloud
and spin through the droplets
tossing the bottle onto the bed
with a wave right out the door?

I twist my hair up off my neck.
Wait for you to notice the buttons, undone.

Kicked from the Feeder

I pretend pretend pretend to remember how to find the words
to find that place in myself
that is not even myself
imagine if I find the right new wonderfuck
I will remember how to feel
right down into the carpet fibers,
how to be the water that steals heat from toes
sometimes I remember words
peninsula
parchment
christmas morning of course I am still there
I pretend I can still pull up the words kicked from the feeder
mourning dove collector
criss-cross connected it is a tie again
and again
I remember when
you’d let me win
when I believed that I alone could hold you
but I see you lie so lightly in all the pretty palms

for years I would not let the inside of my cheek heal,
it was a nervous habit
chewing chewing chewing myself from the inside
to feel in progress
and regression
progress and regression
champhor menthol cottonball
see baby how it healed over smooth

I promised myself I would not chase you
not while I can still see the octagon prints on my skin
where you told me to stop
stop
stop

and yes this is about you
of course it is about you
but he comes in sometimes
from five years back or yesterday and then
that one comes in to
but good and gone, gone!

and I pause, catch my breath
it is bad manners to mix men on a page, isn’t it?
at the very least risky with pronouns jumping possession
through time and flesh
Faulkner fucked up our character

so I write here
I am done with you done with you done with you
and mean
no,
not you
but him
and he keeps creeping in
I left a trail right into my brain
salt and pepper crumbs
I gargle him down and spit
him out because
no, he is not you

we all want to be wanted
yeah yeah tether me in
life jacket tie
I only want you
you know this baby
you my soft voice strawberry soother
you my growl hound ground tracker
with my scent on your nose baby
I put it there while you sleep so you can’t keep from coming back
and back my face falls weightless in your palms
again, again

I only want you
but something between my mind and fingers redirects my words
spray me with your territory
shake that long chain jingle
I thought I left my spontaneity in Arkansas
but someone gave it back
down to the ground like so many seeds

Somewhere on the list

Write that poem you always wanted to write
(at least since last night)
stuck in the glue of guilt-sleepless feet
with half a heart to run
half a mind to open wide
and take him in in in
forgetting prayers and promises
(besides Denver already wrote that song)
Mom played it again and again
but never admitted to
loving anyone she could not touch
not even him even though it was obvious
you heard her voice break
during Annie’s song
“she’s getting ready to fly”
and I bet she looked for laughter and lovers
while braiding stitched tubes of cloth
into an oval rug and when he fell from the sky
we asked aren’t you sad Mama?
he is gone! he is gone!
and she said
why would I be sad
I never even knew him
and I knew that day she was wrong
and how sad that she really seemed to believe it

Write that poem you always wanted to write
(about Wonder Woman)
why she even bothers with the invisible jet
you can still see her there
in a sitting position upright
proud pretending it is all under her power
the soar and superspeed swoop with nothing but the air
to hold onto

Stolen Toro

While eating ice pops on the porch swing
I watch them drive home
try to lock the sweatweary eyes
dry grass glued under straw hat headbands
women’s elbows rest out the open window
fingernails softened by another woman’s soap and grime
I try to catch their eyes
wondering “which of you stole from me and why why?”
I smile and say “look! look at me, I am not one of them
the spoiled ones, I mow my own lawn”
and they keep coming
as I put on my cowgirl pajamas from Target
decide to dye my hair tomorrow
pretend there is no time to think about it
when actually it is all just stuck in the shame
of my witness yes I saw them pull away
and yes they fit the profile and no I do not want to believe
the current of bigotry that pulls feet and continents
building mountains
boiling springs
worse still happiness kills my will to fight it
these fucking drugs don’t let me get angry
or curse the thieves instead of apologizing
is it just the drugs that keep me ahhhh peaceful yes
with popcorn and ICEE’s to keep the boys shhhhh in the red cart
we hummmm down the aisle like the fluorescent hummmm above
past the same cowboy hats
as the Chesapeake accessory aisle
and could it be that I actually believe
I have more than I ever earned
even knee deep — no
waist deep — no
head under debt?

shut up bitch you are there of your own accord
given a mountain you dug this hole
ha ah ha and down in the hole
down in the hole you sit in the new car
beaded hat and free trade chocolates
maybe I really do think the
lawn mower might actually be ours
you have not paid yet

god I love this place!
sure we would put up a fence
if we could afford a fence
tonight my baby sleeps safe
I can’t shake myself into acceptance or fear
we are and we will be we are
ahhhh ha these drugs
keep me so ahhhhhhh
make me coast along the endless edge of climax with no satisfaction
oh god this super heated steam under pressure mmm feels
sooo good for sooo long but
torture, I tell you it is torture of over-pleasure
and when it all finally comes down
to my fists pounding your chest damn it! and the tears
won’t stop and the screams won’t stop and fuck even
the pulsing won’t stop
I thought the shotgun might hit a single target
ha ah ha nothing nothing nothing
I press my knees together
and it all flutters away