wearing black

a flock of crows come to live in my house.
we play chess. we eat popcorn & watch horror movies.
controlled terror is my only comfort these days.
did you hear the police have marble eyes 
they are rolling through the city? i know every stone
is speaking the language of the dead. once you start
wearing black, you do not want to stop. it's an alleviation. 
the crows compliment me & ask if i ever considered
becoming a contract shadow. just for a night, of course.
i say i am staying amateur here. no need 
for perminance. the crows knit me black sweaters
& sew black dresses. soon, we are family in a bright eclipse.

private parts

i wear a fig leaf for a face until
someone notices. thrive on indecency.
i'm all here for public displays of privacy.
the telephone booth. the confessional.
birds are private today & so are stop signs.
has anyone ever told you, you're allowed
to keep parts of yourself away from your lovers?
i think it is important to cultivate mystery.
then again, once i saw a church burn down
for the sake of privacy. there is nothing left
to the imagination in a fire. gone & gone.
trust me, i want to just show you, but i can't.

the swan unzips the beautiful 

out comes a bucket of moths. do you know
we are killing the children? do you know
no one is female anymore? soon there will be
just a great big field of USB drives. 
i once asked my mother why god is a man
& she said "because he creates outwardly."
i sit in a garden of thumb tacs. mirror mirror
on the wall who is the femmest of them all?
the swan is standing with a knife in my bedroom.
i'm going to have to face them soon. 
a round applause for anyone trans wearing a dress. 
the moths have a plan but i do not.

crooked-ing teeth

in my mouth there is a cemetery for beetles.
my teeth wear clogs. my teeth ask
the worst questions like, "why does the sky
taste bitter?" the planet is slowly putting on
a wedding dress. we have lost touch
with ceremony. my teeth sing all night 
& i knock on them saying, "keep it down."
they cannot help it. they are trying to give a warning.
i have watched over the years as they have gotten
more & more crooked. first just a twisted ankle.
now, armless mannequins. it's too late to be pristine.
instead, i smile like a riverbend. the beetles are not dead.

glass 1/2 empty

i'm at the point where 1/2 empty
is dreaming. i look at glasses & i see
clusters of frog eggs. i see their little souls 
full of legs & i wonder if they will live full 
& happy lives or if someone will come along 
& swallow them down. it will not be me. i am too busy 
feeding cheerios to my imagination, saying, "only a few more
years of living like this." the cardboard world
asks me all the questions i can't answer like
"who?" & "how?" the secret is there will
only be one or two frogs. the rest will remain commas.
truly though, the glass is not 1/2 empty, it's just empty. 

coat hanger party

we all came with our favorite regrets.
me with a bundle of door knobs & you with
the coat you refused to wear even though
you looked beautiful in it. it is never
really "tomorrow" is it? it's today & today.
sometimes at a party like this there will be
games. we stand in a circle & try to dream.
everyone can hear me thinking but they are
too polite to say anything. we all choose
a hanger to hold by its feet. i'm told i was
never an infant. we drink punch. we tell stories
of our children. linger until the moon is put away. 

crochet

you told me you wanted a beach house
so i stayed up all night gathering thread.
each of my tongues in their terrarium 
held a dialog about creation. one asked
another, "where does an idea come from?"
i am no longer sure there are bad people.
the hat i make is for a baby i will not have.
it is best to fit all your wanting inside 
a thimble. i have been prone to hooks
crochet & otherwise. it's never enough though.
find me keeping buckets of yearning. yes, i know,
i will need to pour them out. just one more day.

warning: graphic content

your day will have severed. a car
plows through the wall of your heart.
living room smoke detectors. we carve names
in apple tree necks. the bomb shaped
like a lemon. on the side walk we find
salted snails. shelter in place. a tropical storm
named after your ex. she used to stand
in the driveway & scream. it was your fault
but only in the way all rivers have a mouth.
a man with no fingers. slaughterhouse on wheels.
i used to ask, "can i open my eyes?" now, i say,
"good morning, fire." 

licking our lips

we spent all night trying to eat 
the moon's heart. slippery poet
& the knife was too dull. i saw 
in the glow of our freshly dead god
that you had a smile of orange to feast on.
nectar is another word for glory & joy wears
a silver backpack & just keeps walking.
all i want is to kneel & indulge. farm animals
amble the streets looking for an ancient 
agrarian society. they fill a bus & go
to the field of salt. my mouth waters 
every time i hear a bell. pavlov knew nothing.

irrational 

i put my emotions in the microwave.
it's time to feel guilty again. i hide
all my knives in ziploc bags. eat the ears
off an orange. do you hate me? do you hate me now?
once, i got the silent treatment & for two weeks
i didn't say a word aloud. my tongue sang
like a canary in a coal mine. there aren't
enough shovels in case it rains dirt.
are you listening? every time i breathe 
a bird dies. no. i know that's where
the truth goes to eat canned peas. "i know
you're talking about me," i say to the field.