stones and wings

Spring

chased you
out of every corner
took broom and mop
and a chunk of change
to make things new, every
thing a thing that you had never seen,
a thing
you had never touched.

finding little pieces
splinters
isn’t so often now
but each one
is dug out
carefully.

because they still
sting.

you left a slugtrail
over every
surface
it took bleach and
work, so much
work.

but finally
finally
i
might
be
clean.

marks

sometimes i wonder
what it would be
like

to live in a body
without scars.

i see them all the time
on boards and glowing
screens, on pages
and in songs, those

women

made

of unmarked pages.

when the pen digs in
laying ink down
and buzzing against
the bone

it leaves a word.

but they
the virgin pages

are silent eggs, blank and
white.

i’d
rather
be
criss
crossed

at least, once it heals
up.

angels

they want to touch
we know the sharp edges
if they can’t bleed
can we make them
understand
flesh isn’t the gift
they think it is?

borrowed

saw myself
in a mirror
horrified
backed away
because
i was

pretty.

ugly nobody can take away
it’s yours, it’s equity
a mortgage paid off.

but beauty means
something to lose
and God i can’t
stand to lose much more.

so take it back
whoever
granted me
that glimpse

i’d rather be

hideous
and
content

than beautiful
and borrowed.

empty bed

i know you saw
my empty bed
sheets red like fire
covers tossed
two pillows, both smashed.

i know you wondered
if it was shared
or if i sleep rough
the way i did
when you were here.

i know you stood there
and looked.

i caught you at it, and that
was when i decided
you could go, i
moved you down the hall
and out the door, you were
dazed
and i,
triumphant.

did you think
i’d be sleeping
on the floor?

do you wonder
who keeps me
company at night?

go ahead, wonder.

you lost the right to know.

nymph

it was a face
against the whitestripe fence
sloe eyes and
a sweet mouth, pursed
like a cherry.

i blinked,
and she became
leafshadow again;
i stared, and she winked.

i waited
but the sun rose
too slowly for me
to figure out
the moment the angle
changed and
it was just
a twisted bunch
of leaves
casting grapeknot shade.

of all the people
i met today, she
was the
most real.

tomorrow, when
i’m taking down
coffee and a shot
of beam for the
day, i’m sure
i’ll see her again.

i’ll look away
while she’s still a face
so neither of us
will be lonely.

nuestra senora 5

the bulb burned out
right in the middle of
a sentence.
i was still talking, lady.
it wasn’t fair.

i bought replacements
a long time ago.
so i rescued them from the
hall closet and
screwed one in, snapped
you back over your
modern-day candle.

my smoke was still smoking
my glass was half full
i plugged you in and
pop!
a bad bulb.

could’ve taken it for a sign
but then
i never know when to quit
it’s why they all
give up on me.

i shuffled
down the hall
with the fumes
in my head
burped some acid
alcohol
and got three more bulbs.

ripped the plastic open
and screwed another one in
bit my lip so hard
i tasted iron.
plugged you in
and held my breath
and you lit up
like you’d never left.

my lady, our lady
if i can get another bulb
and another,
how about you
throw me a bone?

but every time
i take another drink
my lip, it stings
and i watch your smile.

as usual
you keep your mouth
shut.

yeah, so

took a hiatus. bottle hit back. new job. been writing mostly under lock and key.

stay tuned for more emilio. yeah, more to that story.

that is all.

just stop

stop.
there’s no point.
quit driving past
quit staring so hard
it burns a hole in my ribs.

you and me
were never real,
because you built that
castle
on sand untruths.

i thought you were a man
but mine
was an honest
mistake.

so stop.
quit showing up at my
door
with another hard-luck
story.

i believed you
the first fifty times
now i just listen
to you whine
on the other side
of my new locks.

i keep the phone handy
and the bottle handier.

go away.
at least the liquor
is honest
about meaning me
no good.

better

i had a house
and a job
and i could take a punch.

thought it was enough
until it occurred
a rose in snow, the
blood on the floor
and i knew
he might not kill me
but i couldn’t take the
chance.

now i’ve got a job
minimum, yeah, and
i drink a lot of it.

the apartment’s small
but it’s mine
and the man
i moved in with
is off the lease.
which means
i threw the lifejacket
away. but i don’t
drown.
much.

at night
when i wake
in a cold sweat
wondering
if i waxed the kitchen
floor good enough
or if he was going
to be in a mood
coming home
i see the nightlight

la Virgin in her blue robe
smiling.

and it only
takes a shot or two
to get back to sleep.

yeah, it’s better.
the most i can expect.