inadequate

I had never felt like this, so hopelessly inadequate--
he was holding a glass of whiskey older than I was, wearing cufflinks that could pay my entire tuition.
And here I was, hemming apologies with smiles and tears with apologies; my god, could you imagine coming undone next to a man in a hand-tailored suit?

moon

If you look at her in the moonlight, you can see blue river ribbons under her skin.

she had gnarled hands, like I did, but mine were hard and brown and sun worn tree bark...hers were crumpled paper and blue-pulse pounding. There is not the smoothness of youth in her face, nor the wisdom-laden parchment wrinkles of the old. Only the gaunt craters of her cheekbones, the valleys of her eyes--she was the moon, this woman. Plain and white and inoffensive, until you got close; and then suddenly she was a conquest to be made, cratered and valleyed and virgin. She was the moon, and men fell over themselves to touch her, to be the first man to mine her, and to say that for one glorious moment, he walked all over her.

Momentarily

I taught myself to live in the moment,
to love the present. It's stagnating, this satisfaction. Stale. Reversing, even. I find myself rolling backwards down the slope, no desire to move forward. It's time to climb--to fear the fall instead of welcoming it.

Fallen

We are falling women, falling in love, falling into people, into arms. I don't want to be fallen. Pick yourself up, woman. I am Lucifer read backwards;

make me float in love with you.

Hurt

I nurse my hurts
like a mother would her child.
Maybe one day when they're old enough,
they'll leave.

gunpowder

You wasted, devastated man

you said to me I love you

and I reached for the razor

out of habit.

There's nothing soft 

or safe

in your voice

it's not love as in lovely

or hearts as in Valentine's day

or flowers as in first date bouquets

it's love

as in tennis

as in zero, as in nothing

it's hearts as in the cadaver cardiac

flowers as in deflowered and repotted with gunpowder 

irrigated with formaldehyde
and black-eyed tears
Before I met you, I used to wear skirts
now I fear the cloth
that lets me move too freely
that pretends both at freedom and at modesty
but never commits to either
like you
I used to wear my heart on my sleeve
and let my legs do all the hugging
until my mother banned me
from wearing skirts
or anything with sleeves.

you said to me

I love you

and my eyes closed in a moment of silence

for all the casualties

of the war
that you're about to bring down upon
my gunpowder garden.

Prayer

My mother accused me of being un-religious
and I was too embarrassed to tell her
that just last night I was on my knees
before you
drawing out God's name
with my mouth.