o hear!

you ate the plums

you knew I was saving

for my special treat.

fuck you.

p.s. get your own

plums next time,

Get him to jump off a building

I have two thumbs

And both of them

are backwards.

The pouch for my baby

Is backwards.

My home is burning.

Try not to touch me

I miss their boundless enthusiasm.

I miss their smile wry with popcorn,

their slim lips jutting with fish

hooks and catches fastened on bras

that barely did the job—

they’re better free.

They can see lists of diagonals and wild animals

unrolling in their brain,

Make it known you’re here.

A flurry of feathers,

Flat feet finding rock.

Little beaks like the black

Noses of dogs ruffling

themselves dry, The way the dog

bites her hindquarters

To scratch herself.

They’re little celebs,

We’re the paparazzi.

We’re your biggest fans,

Follow you until you love us.

Except we don’t.

You flit away suddenly

without us even realizing,

My hairs in a bun

He has the most followers

you were made ruthless so you might protect your one body.

you were made heartless so you might have space to roam inside yourself.

you were made breathless so the world might enter you rather than you enter the world.

you were made gutless so you might feel the pain of your prey.

you were made shameless so you might become shiny and new.

you were made remorseless so you might not misuse regret.

you were made sightless so you might trust a touch of guidance.

you were made restless so you might search for love.

And mean as a nail

As loud as a gun

I’m a poisonous, invincible

Eating machine. I spill my guts

To swallow you whole.

Don’t worry, I’m already miserable.

I was already crumbling before

You ever even knew I existed.

Names? Don’t bother, I already

Call myself by all of them.

The switchblade is already

Between my ribs. I put it there.

The fire is set, the witch

Is melting, the monkeys

Are already flying zany

Through the sky black

With clouds. The clock

Is already ticking inside

My own mind. The torture

Of figuring myself out

Is something you could never

Wish on me. It’s all around me,

Loud, impossible bass, rumbling

Like movie thunder. My hot mess

Express has already left the station,

And the only good thing about that

Is you were never, could never be

On it. That ticket is too expensive

For you too punch, the price too dear,

The mechanics of my sadness too

Out of reach for you to ever come close

I want to give you what you deserve.

I want to give you what you've earned.

I want to give you everything you give

me. I want, wait for it, to give you,

wait for it, love. I want to give you

some of my attention. I want to give

you luck. I want to give you sense.

I want to give you light, and sound.

Dancing