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.
the trees grow eggs & we were so unprepared. it is autumn & when i walk, i try to catch as many as i can. pockets full. hands full. inside each is a dead angel. i do not know what can be done with their bodies. at first, i tried burials but not the soil weeps with eyes. we should be more careful with yearning. if we are not careful it will be the egg tooth in a space suit. here comes gravity. here comes a comet with your name. i can not try to save one more. but, there i am, still running to catch. arriving too late.
chariot you bring me every wheel you can find. the horses have long gone to drink juice boxes. everything is one fire & i no longer want to put it out. i want to win something. we wear laurel crowns & sit criss-cross applesauce on the front lawn of a dictator's house. when we say the code word "gold" we know it's time to bury our hands. nothing to see here. the time will come to race one another for the basket of half-rotten strawberries. i will win & eat them all myself. i have a chariot to keep alive. i can not be sorry.
fertility clinic don't believe every egg you talk to. some might working to become lightbulbs. i used to look in the mirror & see a family portrait. now i see windmills. when i worked at the farm i would kneel & shuck corn until i found one with a baby inside. then, i would take a walk & pretend i saw nothing. inside every bone there is a latent ghost. i am haunted by houses that have yet to become houses. walls turn white when i'm left in them too long. i find an egg on my pillow every night for a year.
cucumber melon do you have a hair tie? do you have any hair? i grew a stomach to salvage the day's bagels. cut my own bangs. what else is an angel-killer to do? raise your hand if you had enough to eat today. brushing granola from my lap. a chipped black nail. i would draw the initials of girls i liked on the palm of my hand & close my fist until the ink melted unrecognizable. shoe squeak on the waxed wood. a fish tank swimming with earrings. are you wearing that to school? full length mirrors. the smell of her jump rope.
pickling the photographs i told you we missed the exit. drove eight more states & then we snapped a shot of us beneath the belly of a giant moose. all of you teeth fell out & we had to follow the trail to the valley of death. i promised if we made it out alive, i would be your daughter. a straw hat. a strawberry field. nothing is forever but especially not family. there is the immediate kissed on the forehead & then there is the mutation process. sometimes i think how many times can i change my gender? i am a flipbook. watch me rubber ball. this is not a picture of us anymore. it's a picture of who we thought we were to each other.