jw13

maybe i am ready
to go with you
and it's telling when the heaviness hits
b/c i write about myself and you and the past 4 years

your arms told me we are ready to leave the party
your mouth in a dream
the eyes you had when you were happy

my whole body hurts
and i dont have any money again
i made a lateral move to the other side of the world
crying onto my keyboard

the heaviness
your blue is a heaviness that i had on my shoulders
and some times it's a lightness
of knowing that you appear in the dream plane
or maybe i died a little in my sleep
on this island country of rock and fault lines and helpful strangers in suits

but i am ready to leave the party
b/c you left before me
and it still hurts a little less each day; a little more others

time doesnt actually heal anything
i want you to know this
b/c a memory can be released so easily
and with little cause

a breath into neurons
a flash of litmus paper

i remember them all & the pain

i googled his name for the first time in years
johnny weir whispered it into my ear

you're having a baby; after claiming infertility & expressing a lack of interest
i wonder if you still write but i can't find any evidence that points me there

you are my ex lovers
and my heart is an elephant

3 am love poem Fri 18 May

she made it so she destroyed it
we were at her mercy of suggestion
love happened at their surprise

you’re ghosting me around the city at the corner of 10th and Reed
my own house holds your ghost
slipping an arm around my shoulders on the couch
i stumble around my kitchen and fumble for
missing knives

sleep is elusive at this hour
working off of quinn’s table
wiles is under the impression that love still exists
he said he saw true hearts in ours
working in a wild way
like the weeds growing from plastic blue buckets in my concrete back yard

Light Fiction: Nancy

Tuesday

415 pm:

nancy browsed Zappo’s sale section

apathetically looking at boots named: Passion, Throne, Claudia, Lets Walk, Bullet, Peak

she particularly enjoyed Nines West's line of oh so desperate black boots: Too Late, Cashy, Platnium, Had It All...

was the owner desperate or the boot she wondered aloud

a co worker snapped her neck

what was that?

no ugh nothing says nancy

and it was back to the boots

more women’s names than others: Alison, Angie, Janessa, Daisy, Fatimah, Joan of Arctic™, Tiffany...

there was no nancy in the sale section, size 8, black boots

525 pm:

subway train ride home

no headphones

no book

trying not to catch a stranger’s eye, leaning hat head rested on Poly(methyl methacrylate), the same waterbottle

chasing a rat or was the rat chasing it? up and down the aisles up and down

a boy came through the doors, large home made sugar cookies in a cardboard box,

cookies a dollar

no money, sorry says nancy

tinny bass sounds, at least 3 different languages, whispers, shouts, stop at city hall, interchange of passengers bringing new conversations, wistful young couples, young professionals in overcoats and boots and tweed

nancy wonders what woman’s name is attached to another young woman’s boots with

a jaunty step off onto the platform of her destination