It Felt Like I Was Alone With Only Them
They’re about 5 feet tall, sitting in a dumpling shape on the bench with their hat down low.
The wind assails from behind them up and over and around. In a cup
They hunker into their dining hall uniform and become very still.
I’m observing from my window perhaps 20 feet away and out of the wind.
Rex likes to say loving is easy. He provides conditions I’ve never thought to solicit from anyone.
I wait for them to take out a phone, and as if sensing my anticipation,
They look into the sky. Squinting making folded cheeks. Pulling their sleeves over their fingers.
Finding these people will never end while nothing is perfect. While I should be afraid but I’m not.
While the wind pushes them gently from side to side. While all conditions are met.
The Reminder
Out you come from the stillness of where you’re writing and humming things. I’ve been half asleep in the distance of your bed and you’re wafting over toward me, I suck in all the air between us
You’re putting away dishes and things, pencils and god what’s taking you so long
If you were to take me out of my clothes you’d see all the things I’m sorry for.
You seem to want only to be closer, not to enter. You don’t pry the lock. Am I too uninviting? Are there special locks, are there special lock picks made for the locks that are inviting enough?
You seem so content with everything. I want to wail that I’m a Boston Creme, a geode, unconscious
It seems as if there’s something important about putting your head on my shoulder. i almost forgot
Whatever was so important about that.
It’s so terrible and wonderful the ways we find out we have grown completely out of what we were.
My heart is broken and you’re not even going to jam it out of me with a stick. You’re going to melt it with your hands all over my clothed body. You’re going to
Heat it up with the simmer of your goodnight kisses. You’re going to sleep.
Sylvia
Back by the weighty christmas tree, watching a spider grumble up under the mahogany
Molding of your house
Or in my home, pretending I know how to bake. just tell me how many pounds is to an ounce. you make me laugh more than I can make you.
Or at least it feels like to me.
And I’m on my own tonight walking on my sore feet around and around the kitchen.
Vegetable oil is apparently something I’m supposed to be worried about- according to the reopened proana discourse from 2014 on an app I should delete. I watch all of it pour into the
Plastic measuring cup, feeling pregnant
With a memory of us, our first kiss
Do I remember it like it was?
It’s so funny how I’m swirling the peanut butter into the brownie batter too much. I can’t stop!
Maybe after the brownies I’ll fuck off to Clifton Park and drive through the pretty parts, before I turn over the car to dad so he can get the oil changed
What did I look like to you? How did I feel? What am I like?
Does it feel the same dude? Like am I your sister now and it’s a bit gross? But you still love me?
I can pull anything out cuz I have oven mitts. It’ll burn my tongue when I eat it but at least it’s cooling down instead of
Heating up in the back of the theatre, what was your strongest boner for me? Is it fossilized in the palm of your left hand in the museum of each night we spend apart
Or have I colonized that history with textbooks about my insecurity, about my retroflexion, books printed in Texas, of all places?
My gaze falls back to the oven cuz I’m thinkin about how these are the same old thoughts
If I’ve got such good oven mitts maybe I should try my hand,head
If i’ve got such thick skin maybe i’ll just climb in
My Truth Oven
My body doesn’t change its mind about anything, so I could never bulimia into the toilet
Like i sometimes thought about when i sat and felt the weight of my self next to him.
Tonight, it snows thirty inches. It covers all the windows in the basement,
All of the dormers two thirds shaded with heaps of chalk, the Dodge across the street nestles into
Its little aerie.
The earth is churning on its little spindle as i soften two peanut butter brownies in my mouth.
They melt between my teeth, over and under my tongue even making it to the end of all the taste buds while still discharging their nectar even after they’ve disappeared
They are the most innocent things I’ve ever eaten, they are the batter i stirred and tumefied in my oven
They are making me unlonely. weight is what tells him I am bending space and time to be present here with you, we both know we love
To eat brownies. to be full,
My body is a stage upon which brownies will say something about the exchange of joy
Levitating in the kitchen, i am an iron cradle swelling with fuckin everything mannnnn!