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| I have always loved the slick slope
of my thin shoulders,
nevermind
you used to hold me down with them.
Because there is a certain romance
to sundress straps slipping
from the white prongs of bones,
and I think I love them
more than I loved you. | | |
| adrienne.Last night I dreamt
we were at the playground. It's autumn,
and she's wearing a green windbreaker,
jeans with flower patches
on the knees.
She's four years old, on the swings,
and I'm sitting on a bench
reading a book.
She jumps from the swing
and falls, her neck bent
at a funny angle. I drop
my book, but it's too late. In the dream
there are bits of mulch tangled in her red hair. | | |
| My daughter likes to sit in the laundry bin.
I am peeling potatoes, my hands wet
with juice. Outside, dusk arrives
blue and purple, a bruised fruit skyline.
My daughter gurgles happily, gnawing
on a waxy yukon gold.
The little black kitten, determined
to be included, joins my daughter
in the bin. His pink tongue laps
at her pudgy baby toes. The sound
of her mirth fills the kitchen
like a blessing.
In real time, I stare
at the sticky red mass clotted
between my legs, beg
my husband for a towel. He inhales
sharply, like a siren wail. The sound
echoes.
| | |
| Winter.
I stuff the cracks beneath the door with old towels.
In the mornings, my husband
comes back to bed before leaving,
smelling sweet and clean
in his work clothes.
I pretend to be asleep,
my belly round and heaving
beneath the sheets.
I listen carefully for his departure.
When he is gone, I draw
squiggles on the frosted glass windowpane
with my fingertips.
The sun rises a watery pink,
and the cat circles my feet twice
before curling around them,
a little ball of heat.
I touch my belly, giggle.
Hey sweetheart,
I say. It’s cold out today.
The cat looks up with lazy eyes.
I smile. | | |
| ah, the old
double standard.
surely, i must be
a slut, a whore (i'm sure there are
worse names for the kind of girl
you believe me to be),
because i am not solely
cerebrally focused.
is it so wrong to lust
for the sweet dangerous rush
of a sudden kiss, the
anticipatory clink
of a belt buckle,
the staccato breathing
that seals a silent agreement?
is there any harm in being both
sexual and faithful,
sexual and smart,
sexual and
anything?
only if you're a woman. | | |
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