“did you think I wore this city without pain?”

-Adrienne Rich

it’s midnight,
i’m with you
in a ball
on a quarter of my side
you’re taking up a quarter of
my half of the bed with your engulfing
speculation and a partially harbored
rage,
marking pages you skimmed
to later find your place where you felt,
at the time at least,
some things are better left theorized
than openly in flames.

I’m investigating an inner stillness that dissolves when exposed
 and counting
(to ten, my sponsor said)
contusions around my throat.
you’re learning about economics
this week,
hyperbole & statistics;
the way my freckles move
depending on my
frown,
the likelihood of a temper tantrum over
soap scum on anything I washed,
unloved refrigerator pictures circa 1995,
premature forgiveness when I’ve still got to
fuck the battle out but
someone gave me two weeks of yoga passes
so I’m suppressing it in down dog and polite nods
on a borrowed mat on the other side of
town.
I’m diffident but I’m

hiding my scoliosis  
in poses.

the amount of times my palms moved from open to
across your cheek and at what velocity;
which side of my useless back will face you tonight,
how long before one half of the bookshelf is cleared out,
how not to trust

                   you’re a poor investment, Sarah

anything that has to do with
us.
simply put
(count the marks on my throat)
you already know

                       (inhaling without prompt)

about sharpness;

                      (my Christmas tree is in a dumpster)

some things shouldn’t be touched

                    ( I’m in child’s pose)

and you should

                        (exhaling without noise)

never bet on
anything

that talks.

“the economist”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s