Another Party

You broke your foot instead of the radiator.
Maybe you fractured your pride also.
Throwing punches at the wall or innocents.
Phone calls from her to you, or you to me.
I'm cold for a purpose. Don't feign misunderstanding.
The social situation always claims you.
Nov. 11, 99

Outerwear

I found her in the hall closet
Of my sorority where she was
Abandoned-probably because
She is unattractive, but she
Is reversible.

She still reminded me of stale
Beer and cloves-I knew she
wouldn't mind more. She
Guarded me to Canada and
The Pub with the big dumpster
Outside.

Really I hoped no one wanted
Her because I wanted her
Warmth on the walk home. And
Because she would sit alone,
Saving my seat.

I don't let her in my room
With her strengthened beer
And cigarette stench and
The strange mixture of cologne
With vomit-I had to help
Him home-he was sick.

She even has a hood; when
It becomes colder I'm sure
I'll appreciate her without
Wondering who will notice that
She is green and blue. I'm
Jealous of her loyalty.
Nov. 11, 99

Stalking

The sun bathes my face
And I reach for my cat
Who bathes her own.
She's learned that the fall
Could rob her of playful pounce.
She purrs in the warm beams.

The fly she shoots toward
Buzzes up with anger from
Its shingle, and she
Indignantly pads back to
The window-it is, after all-
An often site of flies.

She lands in my bedroom
And stalks toward a cottonball
Under my vanity; my cue to
Leave the front porch roof.
Nov. 10, 99

Next Steps

Searching the clouded terrain below,
I distinguish myself from brush and stone.
Not certain how I hover,
As I sit atop this damp, powderful throne,
And watch.

Your back to my retreat from single
Pieces of the demise I promised to bear
From ruin. From which I start to
Recall those times I left and ran from there:
From you.

Firesmoke lingering outside its warmth; diving
My soul into that pond so bright
With starblaze. I anticipated your appreciation-
The sole affection of poets' sight,
Which I envy.

Below me, I tread away and remember that day
When you mattered so much,
I could not stay upon your bed so close
To your breath, your insults, your touch,
Without them really.

A strange thing to encounter yourself doing,
When one is not himself at all.
But knows his own mind; for where other
Is my own mind but within ME as I fall
Back to my body.

We, as we shall be, apart no matter
How often we're together.
It shows no bounds, this fissure I've created
That girl walking away, If you'd let her,
would come back.
Nov. 4, 1999

The bowl

Grandmother calls it a basinette;
It mirrors my reflection beneath
The ornate mirror on the wall
Of the chamber I now occupy,
Until I dip my fingers into the hearth warmed
Liquid to splash my filthy skin.

This morning she added wilted ivory rose petals,
Just as her skin, and I knew to feel fear.
I dipped my fingers in the fragrant deathly garden,
Comparing her aged skin to mine.
Our herb garden has no flowers and grandmother
Never buys them.

The sun is barely seeping through my draperies,
And I strain to hear strangers' voices
In the kitchen below my creaking floorboards.
The occasional clash of pots and pans and the fragrance
Of unusual foods simmering with a mixture
Of pollen and lilies.

I grasp the basinette in a heartless embrace and tiptoe down the velvet stairs, through the front hall,
And into the great room with all of grandfather's
Mahogany.
My arms outstretched to present the wilted dampness,
To grandmother holding those same ivory roses
Over my grandfather's open coffin.
Oct. 12, 1999

Listless

Self worth is based upon them, bright eyes, grinning thoughts
He held my hand and I held on without question or loosening
He read and watched me for reactions, but none came
I was scared to admit that these thoughts were mine
Released before forethought so I couldn't push them under
He intoxicates me and confuses and describes sordid thoughts
I study the whims that he murmurs and question my own
Next he will disagree and I will transform for him
Although I believe everything I will to occur next is worthy
To where did my faith in groundwork retire?
I put forth such obscene amounts without reward
I trust he will come forth to praise the effort
Even if he does not know it is mine
Sept. 28, 1999

Unfinished

Rambling wood where he rambles next to me
I knew he wouldn't say anything about everything
That mattered-what he did choose to discuss
Floored me
Nov. 11, 99