Tea and Cookies with the AntiChrist

"Why would a woman,
such as you are,
welcome such violent pursuits?"
he asked biting into a particularly succulent chocolate cookie.

"Now, my dear, isn't that the great question of our time.
How can I be a woman,
and still like to fuck hard and fast?
How can I be a woman,
and wish bloody vengeance on the rapists of the world?
How can I be a woman,
and enjoy it when my lovers beg for me to hurt them?
How can I be a woman,
and love the crack of a riding crop against the bottom of a squirming attractive conquest?
How can I be a woman,
and love to tie up my willing victims?
How can I be a woman,
and walk like a man?
How can I be a woman,
and fuck like a man?
How can I be a woman,
and swear like a sailor?
How can I be a woman,
and push the boundaries of propriety?
How can I be a woman,
and love being a slut?
How can I be a woman,
and want to hold you down while I fuck you?
How can I be a woman,
and not want to suck your cock?
How can I be a woman,
and be unapologetic about my unbridled sexuality?
How can I be a woman,
and fuck women like men and men like women?
How can I be a woman,
and tell dirty jokes?
How can I be a woman,
and enjoy a good kung-fu movie?
How can I be a woman,
and know how to shoot a gun?
How can I be a woman,
and know how to eat pussy?
How can I be a woman,
and want to smack you across the face for asking me that question?"
I responded while sipping my hot tea.
I rearranged my napkin in my lap.

He brushed the cookie crumbs from his chin,
nodded thoughtfully,
and said,

"Listen, do you wanna get outta here?"

The Daughters of Bad Men

my mother was the daughter
of a bad man
she was five years old
and thought
everybody's fathers were drunk
all the time
and everybody's mothers
never left the house
and sported black eyes
for New Years Eve

my grandmother stood over him
the night he hit her so hard
she thought she would die
with a big kitchen knife in her hand
and in the starlight considered
the merits of slitting his throat
(a story relayed to me many decades later
during one of our long conversations)
the next morning she pushed him
out the door
locked it behind her
and never let him back in

I, too, in keeping with family tradition
am the daughter of a bad man
and I'm glad to say I never knew him
blonde haired demon
I am told
schizophrenic drug in the mainline
too much of the bad stuff
where my mother met him
outside the government building
when she was tenderly fifteen
living on the streets
and sleeping under a hot air vent
by the laundromat

my aunt uncomfortable with him sleeping in the house
frightening the hell out of my grandmother
when he came crawling through the window
after a day spent in the hospital
having slashed his wrists with broken glass
my mother, a mother twice by the time she was eighteen
and my father, the bad man, carousing with hookers
so she shut the door
and never let him back in
"if he fucking wants them,
they can fucking have him"
promptly burning all his pictures
making sure my brother and I had her last name

decades later I am told the stories
I am never lied to
raised by my step-father from the age of one
a gentle, if some-what uneven man
tall as hell and furry for at least half the year
I know I am not his child
but he never treats me that way
and I am glad I don't grow up afraid
I am told the stories of my real father
the man I never knew
I am told how he died when I was eight
having never sought me and my brother out
(which was better in many ways)
having done time
and needles
and violence
and how the final virus of the eighties
which we all now know to fear
the great equalizer of the last two generations
the specter named HIV
caught him unaware
and killed him fast

just last year
my mother gave me his obituary
she had it tucked in the pages of an old book of poetry
she said 'I guess I've been saving this for you'
funny to know so much
and yet so little
about the man who you came from
but I know this
I am the daughter of a bad man
and I will never have children of my own

Amy

I was seventeen
and she was pretty when I met her
with soft lips hiding bad teeth
me all lumpish in my great black coat
smiling back in my smeared black eyeliner
and industrial leather boots
falling in love with her
behind the ice cream counter

her parents practically adopted me
always trying to fill me with food
when I preferred to starve
her dad never without a far out story
and a big laugh
her mom endlessly patient smiling quietly

Amy and I held hands under the table
and soon enough we were sharing boys
and friends
and cigarettes
and badly rolled joints
and angsty teenage poetry

I loved her
but I don't think she loved me that way
as a parade of violent men
entered her life
in the years that I knew her
plucking little bits of her all purple inside and out
as her sickness grew out of control

I never knew what was wrong with her
always sick
sick in love with destructive men
who didn't love her back

sick with a broken body
and a head full of fractured glass
years later on my doorstep
with scrambled memories from electroshock treatments
and even more years later a crack habit
that broke my heart in half when I had to turn her away

I think about the nights when we were young
drunk on tequila
and singing late into the night at the top of the stairs
running through the dark park
and down the highway 
in that tiny town
where there really was nothing to do
with our silly friends
high as kites on cheap sticky weed
stopping in the playground
to swing as high as we could
pumping our legs towards heaven
I think of the boy I shouldn't have drunkenly fucked
her aching love
and the cruelty she found to level at me
which I probably deserved
but mostly I think of my head in her lap
the music we couldn't stop listening to
the way we believed in magic
smearing charcoal across big swaths of paper
endlessly talking night after night
her crooked smile peering down at me
and the secrets we shared

she's always there
the first girl I loved
Amy with her crooked teeth
and lost little heart
most days I'm somebody else now
but I'll never forget her hand in mine
as we disappeared into the trees
and whispered to each other
'maybe we'll just never go back again'

Black Kingdom

I knew his handsome smile
and he knew my evil
drank it down like chocolate and ice
always reaching to my breast for more
lapping at the drops
like a hungry blue eyed cat
digging his claws into my supple thighs

he slipped through my dark and poisonous wood
too slick to be burned
laced his fingers in the black tangle of my pubic hair
and called me an unused bitch
as he bit down on my wretching shoulder
digging himself into my pink fleshy folds

even as purple bruises blossomed upon my hyde
he whispered the secrets of my kingdom
to fair haired maidens
with lose morals and slacking corsets
drinking their sex like so much wine

he called me
the Black Queen
prisoner to mine own great tower
Black Heart in the shadows of his twisting fingers
Queen to nothing but time and regret

he came for kisses
off my poisonous red lips
ate the bark from the trees in the courtyard
and stripped the roses from the gardens
to make my bed and lay me roughly in thorns
thrusting like a thousand black swords
unsheathed and cannibal in his passion

I am a bleeding cunt of a woman
never trust that which does not die
bloodied hands slick in childbirth
the graves of stillborn children
amassing in my eyes

he called me the Black, Black Queen
and spit out my name
the dust rose up into a great black bird
it's great black call breaking the heads off the gravestones
tiny eyes and tiny fingers plucking my bloody soul heaven-ward

save those virgin eyes
so that I may wither upon this stone floor
Great Witch to his trodding steps
this fallen kingdom with blackest armies
marching endlessly into useless dawns
make his hands frozen
so I may fall in the state of broken jewels
in dire crowns
and crash down those blackened towers

o'er my end come
in shiny black stones
now bride to the singing blade
that final bleeding slash in the mouth of the world
I am a cunt
and a Queen
and when the world ends
when the walls burn and fall
I will sit on the throne of Hell
Black Queen to all the blackest souls
writhing forever with burning eyes
in an endless bleeding dark

Cells

it is the darkest hunger
in the circle of mine arms
and my kiss is eating

i am an open wound
split for the sky
where you pour in

just under my skin

and around the lips
we go
to and fro

no better idea
to this land
which i trace

with fingertips lost yesterday

flesh of my flesh
ash of my ash
you are my lesson

i am never right
witness your eyes
tears tell all memories

in me you see no star

that evening skin
early morning touch
your lips upon my breasts

vessel all empty
fill me up
i am no use for you

and you burn my name from your tongue

Poems Written While Drunk

she said 'bring me a stubby beer bottle
and a pack of smokes'
then she flicked lit matches at my head

i replied 'there's only one thing I wanna do
right now
and that's eat snacks and kiss you'

she frowned at me
and said 'don't be stupid'
knocking the rest of the whiskey back
straight outta the bottle

she then proceeded to throw that
at my head too
luckily I can duck real fast
even when I'm drunk

that's about when the room
started to spin counter-clockwise
but she was spinning clockwise
for some insane and ultimately invalid reason

she had taken her top off by this point
and I could see her nipples
pressing against the thin fabric of her bra
I thought about diving head first into her cleavage
like a man overboard

she threatened to strangle me
with my own tongue
when she caught me staring

I slurred 'have you ever
seen a drunk skunk?'
to quickly change the topic
and avoid the violence i knew she was capable of

'I wanna swim with bow-legged women
and someone should invite a duck'
she rolled her eyes
until I thought they'd come right outta her head

she didn't think much of my ideas
but I knew I could wear her down
if I let her beat me about the head for awhile
I nodded 'I'm gonna need another drink
if we're gonna get into this shit'

I polished off one of several bottles
littering the table
and swayed a little to the side

that's when she came at me with a lit cigarette
and the thickest bible I've ever seen
thwacking me upside the head
and knocking me flat on my back
over the side of the table

'if we're gonna do this'
she roared holding the burning ember of the cigarette to my eye
'I'm gonna need better drugs than this bullocks you got
you sorry fucking bastard'

that's about when everything went completely black
and I prayed for someone to save my soul
I knew I shouldn't have been writing poems when I was drunk
that shit's just plain old dangerous

Nancy by the Sea

so I got this big amber bottle of tequila
and I named it Nancy
so I could drown some bad ideas for awhile

Nancy said
'you realize bad ideas tend to tie
floaters to their heads'

she was right of course
but I always preferred self-destruction
over conversation anyways

I took Nancy to the beach
so we could listen to the boats
smash up on the rocky shore

and laugh as the sailors fell in
thrashing about the water
like parasites

Nancy knew all the best dirty jokes
and recited them one after the other
until we were both rolling on the ground
clutching our sides

Nancy tasted of gasoline and cigarette butts
and had this tendency to make my head spin
but she was still the best company I had all week

Nancy suggested we get naked
and run into the surf
it seemed like a good idea at the time

I was always a fan of nudity
and doomed attempts at fun
so I flung my clothes over the railing
and ran straight into the crashing waves

once set to sea
Nancy bobbed next to me
asking 'is he really worth it?'

I answered between lungfuls of salty water
'why the fuck not?
what else better do I have to do on a Monday night?'

they found me a week later
clinging to a buoy covered in seagull shit
muttering 'Nancy, Nancy,
why did you leave me?'

as it turns out
my lovers never stick around for long
and bad ideas really do float

The Distance Between God and Womankind

how was I to know
what my skin would do to you
I`m a nun from now on

I`m all black and white
and silky penguin sweat
I`ll live on my looks for awhile

if I can outrun
the Devil
I can outrun you

Jesus Christ
walks into a bar
and I catch your eye

someday you`ll die
and I'll come to your funeral
in a red dress

you're lips keep me up
laying for hours in a day
where did this get me?

well Father Lucifer
who did you follow this time?
I know no saints

I'd kiss you
even if you were planting
bullets in my chest

let's maintain this good time
order pink cocktails
inhale smoke from pretty lips

fire a few clips
dance like the whole fucking room is watching
order food we don't plan to eat

fuck like we mean it
save the truth for
stupider men

someone's gotta help me sleep
on these unnatural settings
and I love you

it's only my dirty tongue
and it's unnatural ability
to suck cock without regret

Jesus Christ
walked into a hotel
and gave me pointers

the Devil offered critiques of my style
I've still got eyes for you
they're in that box over there

come and see me
when your heart is finally glued all back together
I'll tell you about dinosaur bones
and the distance between God and womankind

Candy

I came here to be a Monster

if I'm the realization of all your worst fears
more hungry rows of teeth than smile
then you better grow eyes in the back of your head

I came with the ability to sniff out the sweetest flesh
I came with a violent past
I came with a taste for bones and candy

when you said 'I'm losing something'
I looked down and replied 'you're losing blood'

and when you asked 'what are you?'
I didn't have an answer

but I know when I finally bite into you
you will taste like candied apples
all sweet and sticky and red
dripping all over my legs on a hot summer night

you're sweeter than all the treats at the carnival
like rotting sugar and pennies
and I could lick you off my fingers
all day long

I could eat you like strawberry pie
and suck up your insides like clotted cream

with my filthy claws in your chest
I can tell you who I am
and show you your creamy fillings

you are a chocolate covered gummy bear
I just can't wait to sink my teeth into
and I enjoy biting the heads off first

I may not be your dream girl
but I am more than happy to be
your little honeyed nightmare

you've got eyes like bright bulging gumballs
and they will roll into the back of your head
you're sweeter than any syrup I've ever tasted
I want you like gumdrops

and when you are all used up
when I've lapped up every sticky drop
you'll be a candy wrapper
all eaten and balled up and tossed in the trash

but I'll still be darkly hungry
and I'll have to move on
to find someone else just as delicious to eat
like a bagful of pretty shiny candy

I came here to be a Monster
and every dreadfully beautiful day
I violently and sweetly succeed

Outlaw on a TV Screen

I said
'come on cowboy,
make your move'

he had hesitation
down to a
frustrating science

it was too late
for either of us
to act like we didn't
want to

like we didn't
have skin
under all that leather

and up in heaven
devils masquerading as angels
were just as naked

I had a bag full of my sins
and a gun
hidden under the mattress
I'd show it all to him
if he would only ask

somewhere a guitar screamed
with throat singers
crooning the stories
of our ragged love
to indifferent audiences

the bird of the morning
was looking for us
as our bodies
slid against sweat slicked
coves pitched in the sheets

I would liked to have
abused my hands
on the sharp edges
of his Hollywood smile

smoked all the cigarettes
in the world
just to have that hoarse voice
trip over me in the night

just to ride that big black mare
over to him
kicking up rippling dust
on the edge of some
tricking sky

like some gun-slinging outlaw
in an old black and white Western
glittering on the TV screen
the only source of light in the room

and they said 'tell us your name'
and three of them were dead
before they hit the ground
'that's my name.'

I thumbed the hammer back
and the bullet clicked into place
I slipped my other hand into my panties
I licked my lips


And I said,
'come on cowboy,
come on.'

5am

some poems taste like sugar
and you should take them as
the gift they are

your skin
is like a silken map
to careful foreign lands

I would put my fingers
upon you forever
if only life were so simple

if only I could
brush those tears from
your eyelashes

kiss away
what you seem to be
so afraid of

I am here
filling up the room
the light inside me spilling outwards

cascading and splashing against the walls
pale skin glowing in the dark
limbs all flaxen and twisted around the sheets

twisted around your hair
my hands sliding over your face
in my listless mind

nothing was lost
you led us here
suddenly regretting what was behind my eyes

but I am water
I flow
and the currents pull me to you

kisses pried my lips open
hands delivered me
your breath in my ear took me back

5am comes and I am alone again
but the taste lingers like sugar
as I quietly sing myself to sleep

Filthy Heart

he says
'why don't you take your clothes off?'
asks me to get up
and walk across the room
in my shiny black stilettos

he says
'turn around, turn around'
my ass swaying
his eyes following
these ideas coming
fast and dirty now

he says
'why don't you put on that tight dress for me,
so I can watch you take it off again?'
his hands now full of my ass cheeks
slipping his tongue out to lick his lips

and I sway
strut
slink like a leopard
all sex and beautiful want
a momentary goddess
in the eyes of an enraptured audience of one

when he is on his knees in front of me
I slip my hands into his hair
I press myself against his face
and come up empty
on gasping
shivering straight down to my toes

and when it's all over
when I'm throbbing in deep places
sore and sweating
when he gets up to put his pants on
eying the quickest path to the exit
passion all spent
on these filthy little hearts

I think to myself
'well now that it's over,
I think I'll get something to eat.'
the door clicks shut to an empty hall
as I bend to the refrigerator light
and glow in my kitchen
naked in the dark

They Sold My Brain To Science

they split my head
neatly in two
and kept both halves
for themselves
they should have had
cleavers instead of hands

a million little points
of bright pain driven light
crept up inside my eyeballs
each jabbing a needle
into the center of my brain
with uncanny accruacy

I prefer large handfulls
of blue pills
over this havoc
electricity plays
on neurological pathways
like flapping geese on fire

I'd like the two halves
of my skull back
if you please
and some glue
to patch up the cracks
and some rubber bands
to hold the whole mess together

I mean they took Einstein's brain
and look what happened to him
pickled in a big gallon jar
with ancient thoughts beating against the glass
like trapped butterflies
and no little blue pills
to make it all go away

I would much rather keep my head
firmly affixed to my shoulders
and let rot do the rest
than spend an eternity
staring at distorted pinched faces
of complete strangers with little 'o's for mouths
behind two inches of formaldehyde and warped laboratory glass

Bramble Skin

naked view
straight here
down the alley way
where great flocks
of sparrows
dot the sky

sitting nude
at dawn
in my favorite chair
the sky
huge and vibrating
above me

they believe in me
with little warbles
and quiet nittering
I waste most my time
waiting for footsteps
on the doorway

my neighbors slumbering
one thin wall away
I see dawn coming
pink clouds
dipping to the feminine mounds
of rolling green mountians

I feel my legs open to the breeze
flowers tilting to warm wind
delicate vines
like fingers up the side of the wall
I see them twisting in the coming light

the brambles have my heart
with each darting bird
I am in a tree top
chasing bugs in the grass
I am naked as a jaybird
sleek as a hunting cat
and floating through the morning air

if you look up
for just a flashing second
you will see white skin
and blue feathers
slipping back in the window
flittering
forever lost to your trembling view
in the half light of this so near dawn

Whore

come
feed me
your silence

pursed lips
eyes shut
all the excuses
all sewn up

she was
the worst thing
that ever happened
to you

and you still
love her

don't act so
innocent

you say
fix me

you say
I'm looking
for the door

I say
those were jewels
in my eyes

before I drowned
the waste
time
and silence

pretty fingers
all the way
down my throat

plucking frayed wires
out like
worms
that day slipped

and I saw you go
with her
still vile under your tongue

I slipped under
swollen
whore to better men
than
you

and twice as gold
as any
burning
dawn

Eaters

I followed the God tail
Devil fingers and all
ripped in flesh
and dangling from teeth

quicksilver
I saw the post
lashed to the ground
and tilted head upon it

dripping down
crimson gore to chunks
caught up in little fingers
and eaten right away

with sprinting feet
twisted at the ankles
right off
painted the asphalt a sickly red

they come like packs
all howls and tongues
right up the side of your leg
peering into your eyes like windows

they eat noses around here
a sniffer to the dirt
I'm painted all black in mud
and carrying insects anyway

where's the Devil when you need him?
I followed that bouncing rump
and look where it got me
30 miles down and no way up

A Ceaseless Dream

my face pressed so hard
into the pillow
it left fabric lines
in my skin

I had shut my eyes
and bit the inside of my cheek
and hoped the moment
would not end

stars pressed against my eyelids
flesh hardened
found its way home
inside me

I knew what would come next
but I held out
futile hope
telling myself lies

telling myself smooth skin
already lost in the act
the movement
the play within plays

my knees gave out first
I wandered about the floor
tipping toes upon cold tile
footfalls in the forests of my mind

the beauty of sharp metal
pressed up against white skin
the droplets so crimson
welling up like jewels

and the penetration of emotion
was the lie
the flesh still here
still able to feel but cold

I saw his eyes as he slipped down the staircase
I saw the devil follow close behind
and with every pointed finger I had left
I carved those dreams out of my mind

Green Lake

a sweet frozen Mr. Freezie
it's thick syrupy pink sugar water
dripping ice down my chin
on a sweltering day in August

in the back of my dad's 1977 crew cab Ford
sitting next to the chainsaw parts
and grease stained wrenches
sucking down the cool treat with birch trees rushing by

we're heading to the lake
so deep and green a summer excursion
towels in my mother's plastic laundry basket
and her long brown hair whipping in the wind from the open window

I wipe the pink sticky residue from my fingers onto my cut-off shorts
my brothers engaged in a game of name-that-old-car with my dad
my bathing suit sits close to my chubby young skin under my clothes
as I squish a blood filled mosquito against the truck window
leaving a red streak in the glass

my mother says she remembers this place from her childhood
when there were no city people's vacation homes on every beach
and you could swim naked with no one for miles around
she tells us the story of Scrooge pushing uncle Pete out of the tree
on a summer night at a bonfire party of her younger days

then there's the story of uncle Pete gone missing at another party
and the couch strapped to the flatbed truck
only after they drove all the way home from the lake
did they find a drunk uncle Pete passed out on the couch
miraculous that he had not fallen off on the long ride back

the lake comes into view around the bend of the road kicking up dust
a cool breeze rustling the long stands of leafy trees
my father rolls the giant Skidder innertube down the beach
and it splashes into the water flopping on its side
it's so big it can hold me and both of my brothers as we paddle from shore

only when I am standing chest deep in the warm water
watching my mom and dad dive from the boat dock
and my brothers wading out to the deep
could I look at the blue sky touching the fir trees in the distance
and think that those sweltering summers would go on and on forever

Moss

bowing lupine
each little floral eye
blinking at me in the breeze

moss underfoot
so soft like the floor of the world
is carpeted in green

near this clear stream
a black dog ducking through the underbrush
quickly leaping the fence

races for me
he lulls his tongue at me
and buries his head in my lap

the fir boughs
dappling the sun
in the arms of this crooked tree
growing for the sky

my secret forest
behind the public park
the trail hidden by brambling bushes

my secret tree
each trail navigated barefoot
knee deep in the cool creek

I stretch my arms out
feel the wind ease past me
these forests grow within me

black dog with blackest eyes
ruff of fur under my hand
my thick thighs and young flesh
scratches from the wild roses

and each thorn grows in my heart
each branch broken by bent passing
that black tail disappearing into the bushes

all a fading youth
in eyes of concrete gray
and northern stars on my shoulder

when they finally find me
I'll tell them
I just want to go home

Apache Skin

thinning lover
patches of Apache skin
dark and light
near the gates long rusted

these drowning gates
to which you wade
eyes closed
skin drawn tight

fearing me
rabbit fence touch
swimming through tall grass
home in rotting boards
and sweltering eyes

stairway to emptiness
dear empty house
haunted
with breathing flesh

hunched over figure
in the doorway
two glowing points
and malicious intent

I am coming for you
Apache skin
tip and tap
tap and tip
hold your breath 

I am restless
outside
tree skin
pressing sky
kisses in the mud

the house on fire
a room full of panicked siblings
an old man frowning
flames reflected in dark water
and darker soot smudged skin

Apache
with all the golden fields
dark haired children
running ghosts down the hills

far off laugh
where the bodies were buried
when the smallpox hit
buried them all with your own hand

and the mules died
outside this very home
old hands
switching lights off
and frowning out the window

no stranger
than stranger skin
those gaslight eyes
in my dreams tonight

clodding steps
on empty stairs
walls open to little children
ghost trains in the starless night

and fingers on Apache skin
come up cold
with bone turned to ash
when the moon sings her waning song

The Blood of the Morning

the pool deepened under me
as the sun
fractured the water
into dark depths of filmy
rakish shadows

I saw gleaming
to the edge of dawn
the blood of the morning
splitting the sky in two
and the water slipped
up my neck and into my mouth

clear coldness crept
shivering fingers
to the outline of my bones
and little ripples
waved around me
with my name slowly ebbing away

I shook my legs heavy
splashed my face
frigid to the rays
of golden headed raptures
down the all too clear skies
to the droplets glistening
in my floating nest of dark hair

silence
all mine
to tree lined shores

not a whisper
to corrupt
a break in the tidal flow
of purple star fish
and chirping shatter bird
high above the cliffs
and far from clattering
pebbled beaches

the waves reached
and flung their little rounded bodies
back
and I could hear the sound
as if a hundred little stone fingers
scrapping the sandy floor

only watered downed wood
will know my passing
a gentle slipping
through the water
my languid eyes open
to a polished depths

where they are
acrobats
of bug catchers
with glistening rainbow scales in the new day sun
flung to the heavens
like an arcing glitter to velvet dappled wings

and when skin is a fleshed pink
to the violet hue
of lapping
with tongue and gentle limb
though fluid in touch
and sliding between waves

I will find that rocky shore
with barest of foot
and nakedest of skin
dripping
a blushing shade of
my innocence
to the tilting sentience of emerald trees
akin to this my pastoral place of home
soaked with water-smoothed body and bone
in the long sandy line of the crystaled shimmering dawn

When You Come Around

love can be molded with nips of teeth
against gentle pink skin
in secreted smile
and long distance phone calls

you can be a bird
and wish for cannon balls

or you can be stuck where you are
standing in the shower
with your hands below your waist

you can laugh until you fall off the couch
heavy lidded
inhaling sticky sweet drugs down into your lungs

or you can be a bug
under the floorboards
scurrying from fat cat paws

love can be a warm bed
a warmer body
and clean sheets crisp against the night air

you can whirl around the dance floor
pushing the grabbing hands away
and billowing up to the sparkling lights

faces can be video lines
lips parted to a glowing 'o'
we can be naked
to the gentle blue flickering
of another day in TV static

o' hands of mine
be swift in time
and I shall lay my head
at your feet

with heavy breasts
and your name tattooed on my hips
I will be waiting
for the day when you come around

Bed-Bugged

I would not suggest to you
an extended vacation in my bed

for I toss and I turn
and I find myself uncomfortable
all the night long

I really am
a terrible bet
and a bear in the morning

do not dip your hand
below my waistband
in an attempt
at playful dawn reforestations

I might take it upon myself to bite you
to nip at your fingers
until you shriek
and take your hand back from me

I have sharp teeth
and I enjoy the taste of fingerprints

I am not particularly fond of your morning halitosis
I prefer to keep all the blankets to myself
your breath is making my neck hot
and I want my pillow back

no matter where I plan my legs
yours seem to be a tangle in the way
my arm has gone to sleep
while I plot my revenge with my own pins and needles

you are on my hair again
as you latch your hands onto my breasts
I am rolling and rolling and have nearly
rolled clean off the bed

I wish you would stop trying to sleep on top of me
didn't you read the sign on the way in
written in bold letters above the doorway?
It states my positions quite clearly:

"Don't Plan On Long Stays,
Please Depart With A Minimal Amount of Fuss,
You See, I'm Trying To Sleep,
And In All Actuality I Probably Hate Your Guts."

St. Paul

with soft soled scuffing down long halls
of ancient linoleum
over cracked and splitting lines
they stream past in soft pastels
with their disinfected smiles

I sit wringing my wrists
against the plastic placard in my hand
wondering if it will hurt this time
if it will work this time

the room is silent
sterile
they have moved it down the hall
but it is much the same
a table covered in white paper
as white as paper cranes
with stirrups that never ride anywhere
with my knees up in the air

I disrobe quietly as the nurse
busies herself with tubes and little vials
of treatment bought wholesale for times like this
I can hear the doctor in the authority of textbooks
speaking quickly in the back room
in a long diatribe of prescription and diagnosis
to a panel of white coats and greying hair

she leans over me
implements in hand
gentle smile in place
she tells me to scoot up a little closer
now breathe in
now breath out
just a little pinch
keep breathing

and its done
see that wasn't so bad
and it repeats
over and over again
day after week
week after month
maybe for the rest of my life

every time I walk down the cheerfully painted halls
covering up nearly a century of illness and habitied nuns
I pass the Pope staring at me,
with disapproving eyes
and a near-sneer upon his lips,
from his gilded golden frame
outside the wooden room
where I see the truly mournful
crouch over softly uttered prayers

as I make my way to the archaic creaking elevator
with a secret pain deeply hidden in my body
I fear not painful death like those humped over
the priest's soft words
spoken before uncomfortable chairs
and doubled-over bodies

I fear instead pain for endlessly stretching days
I fear this uncomfortable feeling between my legs
this uncomfortable walk through these sterile halls
I fear never letting someone enter me again
who doesn't have a needle in her hand
and a relenting worried smile on her face
I fear the day they tell me it will not get better

and once outside I let the wind take my hair
I let the pain settle inside me
I watch the trees sway to rust coloured bricks
and oblivious faces streaming past
the girl with unwashed hair
and pale ghost-like skin
just outside the hospital door
with a cigarette in her hand
huddled next to her I.V. tower
Cinderella coughing up bile in a blue robe

I turn from her
pull my collar close to my cheeks
allow myself to be swallowed by the moving throng
of glassy eyes
and bodies pretending at health
and I follow the wind home
with visions of immortal nuns in my head
with careful smiles upon their faces
and careful needles in their hands
forever floating before my open legs