1. what would my five-year-old self
think of all the men and their cigarettes
and the smoke I swallowed whole
hoping to catch something good in it?
if he saw what love has done to us
would he still grow up believing in it?
2. someone told me bleeding is a good thing;
it’s a story to tell, it’s proof you’ve done something.
I’ve been standing over this sink for three hours
waiting for it to stop. that is not a story I will
ever tell my children.
3. thunder in the city is as loud as I remember
and I wonder what I’m scared of. it’s not monsters
that tear open the sky; they live much closer than that
they turn over in your bed and say come here, baby
isn’t this romantic? like spitting your heart onto the counter
has anything to do with love