Numbness did not exit his body
quietly, clawing at the wallpaper
as it was dragged out. She did not
understand the nature of withdrawal,
trying so hard to hand-feed the rabid.
At night, she would ignore his foaming
mouth, let him suckle a sleeping pill
or nipple, her body a worthless anesthetic.
She dreamt of snarling dogs, a dried worm
on the sidewalk—a mother nursing
limp, blue lips.
You are an impossible birthday party.
You are cloud climbing.
You are muscle relaxant archery.
I was never a straight shooter with you,
so I’m telling you now
while I’ve got this strange bravery messing my chest:
I love you like Mexican wrestlers love their outfits.
I miss you like graffiti misses clarity.
I want to crack open for you like a sinner on Sunday.
When I see you kiss another woman
my arm hairs form armies of Elliott Smiths
sifting the wind for some soft suicide song.
You’re the naughty punctuation mark I’ve always been looking for.
You’re the electric chair that completes my sentence,
the starving wolverine in my mailbag of wholesome thoughts.
I am afraid of regrets. In my dreams they rise up
like froth mouthed horses, apocalypse black and freaking out,
whinnying in ancient devilish which I interpret to mean “your fear is hilarious to us.”
When I’m awake, I can trick myself into believing almost anything.
It’s not magic; it’s serial optimism.
But I’m not buying our someday.
Your gravity is moonshine. It’s not the real dance
of two heavenly bodies, or even the bumping of two cake forks
at the dessert table. I just wanted to let you know I know.
I just wanted to warn you, I’m signing up for vanishing lessons.
if I ask to you to meet me on a windy pier somewhere
overlooking the sandy blue cash of the Pacific,
if I ask you to wear your best wool coat,
don’t show.-mindy nettifee
i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small i am not small and you cannot make me feel that way anymore.
I
for you, i will settle for target practice.
your kiss could convince me to drink
poison from a champagne flute.
II
unlike him, you will read this poem
and ask about it. i will tell you
to shut up, keep pretending
this isn’t some kind of
arsenic foreplay.
I have stopped enjoying sleep. At the slightest hint of light, my eyes force themselves to open. At least when I’m awake, I know I won’t see you.
on being a public cutter
your family stares nervously as you chop
vegetables for dinner, casually glance
at your wrists when you pass the butter.
conversation remains neat and painless
like a cutting board.
strangers, however, proudly show you
their scars, as if they were wallet-sized
pictures of their children. you are related
by blood. you are the piper leading
a parade of knives.
