April 22, 2011

(i dreamed)
i painted his eyes
and his insides
it was an abstract.
when i awoke
my hair was in a tangle
my tongue in knots
my spine stuck.
the sheets were wet
with sweat
and salted tears.

i misunderstand
love way too deep
and run off.

i have to sit somewhere alone
and hold my own hands
to cup
the gravity of his face
and the tornado of mistakes
i will most likely
continue to make.

April 12, 2011

in a world full of beasts..
i love this beast most of all.
she brings me joy
when i can find none on my own.
she turns tears into laughter,
loss into gravity.
she is my truest heart..
my angel beast.

Open heart surgery
i am remembering the early 90's today. the streets of new york city. hand in hand with my future ex-husband. we have no idea do we? the beauty that awaits.. the devastation.. the miles of numbness.. the injuries.. the spells of joy. my legs fell fast asleep as the avenues stretched from harlem to the diamond district but he pulled me along. my heart like an engine that would not die.. i could have walked to maryland.

he was my boyfriend then. he was sleeping on his brother's floor uptown. i was sleeping in my childhood bedroom. i took the train into the city once a week to visit. nothing had happened yet. we were still going to be very famous. we were still going to travel and have adventures. we still held hands everywhere.. we had no life together.. we had no money yet.. no house.. no favorite television shows.. no private jokes.. no mutual friends.. no bed.. no christmas decorations.. no nightly candlelit dinners.. no little dog to love like the baby i couldn't have.. no change.. no disappointment in each other.. no what ifs.. no fence that he took two years to paint.. no relapse for me to disappear into.. no in-laws to resent.. no big bank accounts.. no bankruptcy.. no record deal.. no lust.. no anti-depressants.. no sad silence.. no sex life to sabotage.. no backyard for me to spend a summer staring out the window at.. no baseball card collections.. no clothes i did not need.. no separate vacations.. no history. we were just a boyfriend and a girlfriend walking thirteen miles straight down the middle of new york city like the first impatient and clean cut into a wedding cake. and i am remembering it like i'm tracing the long thin line of an open heart surgery scar.

April 8, 2011

France, 1999
i closed my eyes.
more than a thousand yesterdays ago.
i swallowed sleeping pills and cried
a few poems.
i prayed with the canadian christian girl
who i was sharing the room with.
she told me god had a plan for me.
so i slept like a child.

in the morning
i stood on my train legs and walked to the window.
then sat shaky
looking out over the rooftops of Paris.
the roofs of Paris like beautiful rotting birthday cake.