pizza delivery

give me my lungs back.
i never said i was going to 
be a jesus fisherman. it's raining
& there are camera men. it hasn't rained
since i was an anchovy. 
you hold the pizza cutter 
like a microphone. talk into the fissure.
talk into the grease. i wore the cheese dress
when i got married the first time.
no one expected me to cry.
i had a baby from knots of guilt.
she quickly turned into a peperoni slice.
i told her, "it's much better this way."
gender has a funny way of asking you
to do chores. shave a cat. toss the dough.
chip a tooth trying to climb
the side of the building to free your lover.
if you haven't been laying on a roof
at some point we have nothing in common.
i would pluck stars & put them
in my ears to hear something good.
i try to inhale & i breathe in
coal perfume & boyhood. don't get me wrong.
there are worse things than 
being misunderstood. i could be
anniversary. i could be annihilation. 
instead, i have just a plastic drinking cup.
the well's wild guts. i just want
my breath again. the doorbell rings 
& i try not to get my hopes up.
rushing to open it, thinking,
"this time it might be my lungs."