and he has no idea, as I had no idea,

and I am not going to speak of this to him ever,

I am going to let him stretch out on my bed

so I can take the heavy richness of him in

and in, I am going to have it back the only way I can.

Muse

MUSE

When I walk in,

men buy me drinks before I even reach the bar.

They fall in love with me after one night,

even if we never touch.

I tell you I’ve got this shit down to a science.

They sweat with my memory,

alone in cheap rooms they listen

to moans through the wall

and wonder if that’s me,

letting out a scream as the train whines by.

But I’m already two states away, lying with a boy

I let drink rain from the pulse at my throat.

No one leaves me, I’m the one that chooses.

I show up like money on the sidewalk.

Listen, baby. Those are my high heels dangling from the phone wire.

I’m the crow flapping down,

that’s my black slip

you catch sight of when the pain

twists into you so deep

you have to close your eyes and weep like a goddamned woman.

You Don’t Know What Love Is

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS

but you know how to raise it in me

like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to

wash off the sludge, the stench of our past.

How to start clean. This love even sits up

and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps.

Any day now she’ll try to eat solid food. She’ll want

to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive

to some cinderblock shithole in the desert

where she can drink and get sick and then

dance in nothing but her underwear. You know

where she’s headed, you know she’ll wake up

with an ache she can’t locate and no money

and a terrible thirst. So to hell

with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt

and your tongue down my throat

like an oxygen tube. Cover me

in black plastic. Let the mourners through.

Blues for Roberto

BLUES FOR ROBERTO

It’s an ugly circus, to leave you again.

It’s a carnival act: bound, chained

underwater in a glass tank, near-drowned,

I’ve gotten free. I’m incredible.

I’ve gotten so good I’m terrible.

Bring on the elephants, their great legs hobbled.

Bring on a lion, I’ll feed it my head.

Bring a small scrap of paper to wipe up the blood.

I’ll hang myself from the high wire, nude . . .

Once you loved me, but walked away.

Once was too often, for a girl like me—

Since then I’ve made you pay and pay.

Don’t call me, ever. I’ll tell you I’m sorry.