art project

i wish you saw my face with
all the glue. i have gotten used to
the process of putting things 
back together. the ceiling fan & i go on a date
& i try to tell her how scared i am.
the rain comes down like mouthfuls
of marbles. i have an art project in my hands
& i know it is going to end up
just another pile of noodles. you tell me
to start making lists. i ignore you
& instead i get the little-kid clay &
form a pinch pot to keep my teeth. 
i want a television that says
bright & delicious lies. i am not ready
for a life without you but i see it 
thunderous & without any rooms.
we get paper plates & you tell me
i am killing the earth. i go to a tree
& try to put the paper back. i am the patron
saint of too-late. you scream at me
& your mouth becomes a gutter gushing
water in the midst of this storm.
i remind myself that nothing grows
without downpour. a part of me always feels
like i deserve whatever is happening,
mostly when it is terrible. 
the paint runs & the pigment runs
& even my name signed on the back
turns into a puddle of worm footprints. 
i consider what it would take for me
to remake the art project. i go through
the phone book in search of a teacher
willing to cross her arms & tell me
my brain is made of pink erasers.
it is the middle of the night. 
one arrives. you are the silent kind of furious.
you ask me, "how much is this going
to cost?" i show you the project.
it is sticky & has too many pipe cleaners.
i explain, "it is a self portrait."
you say, "it doesn't look anything like you."