tonight I’ll do:

a spring equinox meditation,
brush my teeth
cut grapefruit for the morning,
ride the waiting out.
pay homage to my Pluto;
my twelfth house of self undoing.
they said it would be grief and
romance, but they didn’t say
who kills me.
I asked God to shop showing me my death
after the first five hints.
you can’t travel if you are just waiting for the crash,
can’t walk to close to the
edges of bridges without trying to suddenly
fling yourself off of one.
you know you belong in sheet metal at the bottom
of the ocean so
(let’s get this grave dug)
I unapologetically expand
in the mean time.

I’m becoming a panacea of my own:
memory, tincture,
flowers everywhere,
the fuss of first love never leading anywhere but
here in another meditation
on the river walk
draw my poems out of the older sutures:
undo, redress,
pamper the scars.
try to plot it.
try not to talk too much to you.
think about it and

remember the way grief sits, unsettled,
right after dusk.
right under your chest.
right under your breath
like a sudden pinprick but
like a roving, algid planet
looking for a cavity to occupy,
run that soul around at night.
(I’ve got dreams to infect)
like a hungry little ghost
eating her way out from the inside .
like the time your brother died.

a blue river from my fingers;
send you a letter
with my wounds
carefully pasted in the
margins, dotted with glitter
and hiss
and an essence of him
and I departing
followed by several unnecessary years of
inimical silence.
reminding you
(I’m an empty house)
to think about it.

pay homage to your Venus:
love unreturned is out there
somewhere  but he grabbed my trusting fingers,
demanded that I just get comfortable
with being less when I opened my arms
to the empty sky
to ask for it back.
(you’re a lost revenant)
apologetically regress.

I crouch in his lap,
spine twists like a knife and
cuts me in half and I
collapse, shrink effortlessly to fit
the crook of his neck
I haven’t spoken to anyone else
in weeks and he says,

I never asked for this.




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