2018 Works from the New Horizon

Winter, 2018
​
Astride 

I am standing on the precipice
Teetering between the past
and the future
There is nothing but now
nothing but exactly this moment
and yet I see all the futures
all the pasts
and I don't know what will be
I see my work, solid
I see my family, complicated
The interior is more difficult
There is a cat at the ASPCA
who needs socializing and quietude
I will call tomorrow
and offer my peace  
The peace of unasked questions
of fevered dreams
Of delaying needs
of growing older
of myself
strength
roots
growth
presence 
So simple
and imperative
To Be
Here
Now
To make a present 
of oneself
of home






The Mountain 

I used to eat jello and gray's papayas 
for 50 cents each
when I was young and hungry
I used to be a hostess in a piano bar
not the kind with a Billy Joel
the kind run by the Yakuza
where business men sang
the Beatles drunkenly
and we got paid 
an extra fifty bucks
to take them to Taki's after hours
for late night sushi
I used to be an "MTV" Dancer
And an MTV Dancer for hire
at Bar and Bat Mitzah's
for 200 a night
mostly in Jersey but sometimes 
Manhattan
leading shoeless tweens 
doing the Macarena 
I used to be a coat check girl
at a high end strip club
but got fired when I turned down a John
I used to bartend 
and bartend
and bartend
and bartend
I used to answer the phone
and I still do
I used to make calls selling stock tips
for a guy who was busted for insider trading
and killed himself rather than go to jail
I used to own a coffee shop
get up at 4:30am and make the donuts
make the donuts 
make the donuts
make the donuts
I used to be a Promo Model
for 28, 32, 38 an hour
for Oil of Olay, Dolce Gabbana 
for Sheik razors and Newspapers
for pantyliners and at the horse track
on the Derby Cup
When all the rich girls wore hats
and I had newspaper stains
​on my fingers 
I used to work in the parking lots
inside the ticket booth
every fucker driving up with their ticket
in their mouth
and they hand it over with drool on it
I used to study in the booths late at night
I used to sleep in the booths late at night
I used to get scared in the booths late at night
There were times
Two Times a Week
For Months
When I sold my plasma
Plug in the needle and drain out the blood
spin it round and separate the plasma 
from the red cells
loop the red cells back in
collect my 20
collect my 40 for the second time in one week
and put gas in my car
to drive me to the WRITERS WORKSHOP
where Grad Students on Scholarships complained
that they were too busy to get their work done
while I was going through a divorce
and working in the booth
and bartending
and selling my plasma
and I still showed up with my fucking pages
Sometimes I ran the show
Ran the lights and sound
Run the cue to cue
Made the lineup of writers
Reviewed the plays and gave notes
Good fucking notes
Used to gather the actors
Raise the money
Write the Press Releases
Send them out
Take the pictures
Be in the pictures
Post the pictures
Facebook it
Tweet it
Instagram it
Sell it
All the while I was writing
Writing in the days and late night
Writing on scrolls of receipt paper
from behind the bar
Writing on notepads
Writing in my emails and sending them 
to myself to download for later
to put into the doc
carrying my hard copy back and forth
headphones on at lunch
so nobody talks to me
so I can work at lunch
squeeze in more pages
on my breaks
Will I catch one? 
Yeah... I think I will 
Has it been easy? 
Is it easy? 
Nah. Never. 
I do hope it gets easier
There's been some glimpses of it
Some paychecks
Some awards
Some interest
Some requests
Some gigs
What's this then? 
This is the mountain
And I ain't even halfway 






Summer, 2018

Circling Back Upon Washington Square

Sitting in the park
listening to a three piece jazz band
Looking up at the trees 
Who are all decades older now
than they were when I first came
to the city
They and I 
Have grown up
together 
They seem mature now
Established
in a way they didn’t seem before
Their trunks wide and deep
Strong

The flowers are all blooming 
Buzzing with bees
I wonder how much shorter the trees
were then
I note how knotted
they are now
Strong

The fountain is flowing
Me
I’m recovering
Surgery
No saplings for me

My trunk too
Wider and deeper
Than it was twenty 
and some
Years ago
This little park now
seems like it’s asserting itself
between the buildings 
Holding its own
amidst the concrete

Will it grow any taller
Can it?
I don’t know the maximum height
of trees
Do they get to a height
and stop?
Or is their height determined
by their reach for sunlight

The jazz band gets a fan
A handsome white man on a bike
With his died blonde woman
behind him on her bike
He talks and takes their time
She takes a selfie
He leaves money in the kitty
So he’s paid his due
She looks pretty
So she's paid hers

Thunder just rumbled
and cracked
The air is heavy
and electric
The sky is about to
open up 
The band packs up
I should get up
As the drops fall

I walk slow
Like a tree
getting a new ring
Healing
Healing
Growing




​

The Goodbyes

The hunger with which 
you devour me
fueled by the knowledge 
you won’t
See me
For a long time
And you know 
you will miss me
And you know 
I will miss you
So you fill me with 
everything inside of you
Until it hurts
And again
And again
And again
And again
And you are so spent
And I am so spent
To hold us until

We can see one another
Again
There is a desperation
An ache
A fear
That can only be quieted
By giving everything
In you
Every part of your body
Strained and exhausted
Wringing out the corners of your heart
Blowing through each fevered thought
Until there is nothing
but
the two of us 
Alone
Breathing
Trembling
Together
For as long as we can
To hold us

While we cannot



​



My bed with you in it


I never have trouble
Falling asleep in
Your arms
When I wake up
In the middle
Of the night
I never reach for
my phone
To scroll for distraction
Instead I lay
My head upon
Your chest
Breathe in
Your scent
Feel the warmth
Of your body
Your arms around me
See the expression
On your face
Smiling while sleeping
And I fall
Swiftly and gently
Into a dream
Inside a dream


When the scent
Of you
Lingers on my pillows
In my sheets
I am swallowed
Enveloped by
Memories of you
You remain
In the locks
Of my hair
Teasing my face
And neck with flashes
Of your touch
Whispering
I am real
This dream is real
It is safe
To go to sleep
To wake
I am here
You are here


Come back
To bed


(April 25, 2018)


​

Precipice


I’m standing on the edge
So tired
I climbed so far and high
For so long
Ahead of me is limitless
Space
No bridge
No path
Just flight
Or falling
I know I have tools
Feathers
Mechanical wings
But I’m out of fuel
just now
I don’t know the wind patterns
And my parachute
Is full of holes and made rocks
I’m better off leaving it behind
Than strapping it to my back
Ahead of me it limitless
Space
Nowhere visible to land
No swinging vine or branch
No ladder
And it took me so long
To get here
I can’t go back
The path I forged
overgrown already
So I’m sitting here
Standing
Thinking about the mechanics
Laying out all the tools
Seeing friends for courage
Making the fifth CV
With a photo this time
And some colors
Because that’s better perhaps
I wouldn’t know
I’ve never flown
Or walked on air
I’ve only trudged up
Unknown mountains
Creating a path as I went
And even that now
Is gone
A memory
Lines with dates and lists
Accomplishments with paychecks
And letters by my name
Ahead of me is limitless
Space
But I’m not ready yet
Even if all
The machine worked
And the wings and feathers
Did their jobs
I don’t have the fuel
Yet
And I’m not sure of the wind
Either
But I feel the wind on my face
And my heart races from the View
I just need a moment up here
To rest
And think
Or just get used to the altitude
Ahead of me is limitless







Go To the Safe Place

I have no impetus to write another
facebook post
to what end?
It did not solve the issue
of the election of a heinous man
instead of the election of a qualified women
It has not solved the issue
of countless deaths
in schools
due to gun violence
There Must Be a Better Way
a better approach
but I don't know what it is
and I feel powerless against
these injustices
Today I am thinking of Israel
missing hot pita so hot it melts the bag
fresh butter and honey slathered on
I'm remembering the dry heat
the blooming Jasmine
the chicken in Tel-Aviv
the beaches
I am remembering sand in the cucumber
the mud at the Dead Sea
how the salt burns everywhere
but is good for you
I remember floating among salt mushrooms
​being buried in the sand so that I couldn't breathe
terrorism has changed all that
it's all there still
but the wall
Gaza
corruption
like the New York Subway
So much of what was good
detritus
and we fall so far
we fall grasping for starlight
we fall knowing the ground is rushing up
to kill us
and there is nothing to hold onto
parents hold their children
but can't keep them safe
I don't have answers
I only have stories and memories
feelings
I have policy ideas that will never pass
because our education system
and the education of the young and old
has been hijacked by Fox News
What was old has become new again
Antisemitism, though it was only hidden
Racism, though it was never gone
Misogyny, though it has always been
There is a stepping out onto a ledge that we must brave
Men and Women must do this
but I fear most are sheep and will not
I long for a cabin in the woods-
I lie
I long for a shack on the beach
where I can eat fruit and fish and steak
hot pita and humus
Israeli salad, which is like shepard salad but without the onions
in peace
drink good wine
and talk and laugh quietly
gently with friends
and dance slowly with a lover
where senseless deaths and abuses
do not happen
where rape does not exist
I will write this world
I will make it on pages in black and white
in digital reality to hear or read
or visit
and you can go there
and feel better
that may be all I can do
right now
I do not think it is enough
perhaps later
if I have more power and money
I can do more
for now...
there is a soft warm breeze
a wet lapping of waves on smooth sand
there are no sirens here
there are no unwelcome guests
there is company and healthy solitude
it is safe and implausible
the dead we miss are here
they have been here and have plates for us
they made breakfast
with fresh butter and honey








Rescue Kitty

I see him out of the corner of my eye
a small grey shape
sliding out of shadows
jumping up on the bed
but he's not really there
it's a trick of light and memory

I make a loud bang
turn to reassure him everything is okay
he's okay
don't be scared
but he's not
he's not there

when cats die
their eyes open
he went to sleep
with his eyes closed
and opened them
when he didn't wake up

His tongue lolled out
it never did when he was alive
he was too reserved for that
but in death
his tongue betrayed him
death strips all our dignity

I kissed his little head
his soft fur was still warm
I put dried lavender
where his bowls went
and white tulips on the table
that felt right

I wish he could have lived
forever
been healthy
forever
cuddled with me
forever

I rescued him
but many mornings
Foggy
the massive grey tomcat
rescued me
from melancholy

I don't know where cats go
where their little life energy
their cat spirits
wander to or dissipate to
after they live with us
I hope somewhere cozy
and quiet
and safe
and loving
and imaginary
and perfect
and endless



*



Treasure Chest

My love for you is a tidal wave
Huge, rushing, towering, growing
Swelling up gathering mass and power
As it threatens to drown us
But you hold me in your arms
Safe

And we roll
As the wave tumbles over us
Spinning and pulling us beneath the surface
I am afraid it will hurt you
Or hurt me
But you are not afraid

As you roll with me inside your arms
You protect me from the force of the wave
As though it were not dangerous at all
You are at home in the vastness
The strength in your body
The very solidness of your being
Built to withstand the ocean
That is my love for you

And inside your arms
As the wave rolls us
I feel calm
Even as we are tumbled
Because your arms are around me
Holding me steady without worry

Your head bent down over mine
For the intimate nearness
and unconscious protection
My face pressed into your chest
Hiding from the hugeness
of my love for you

Where there
Inside the tumult
A secret
The hidden treasure inside your arms
Beneath a treacherous moving mountain
Capable of destroying continents

Is a magically preserved whirlpool
In your chest
Between our bodies
The illuminating spiral swirling
of your love for me
My arms hold you close

I feel and see glowing impossibly
Fire burning in water
Exquisitely beautiful and bright
It exists without being swallowed
Or harmed by the wave around us
I marvel at this miracle

Breathing it in
Sighing openly at the pleasure
Of its shimmering effervescence
Warm like the light of jewels
Sparkling beneath stirred silt
At the bottom of the ocean

Inside
A tidal wave





Poems for your consideration (2017)

​
How to Not Be Addicted to Praise
(Dedicated to Mark Hammer)

Nothing is missing except you
And some kudos I think I deserve
​And some societal approval
And a signed contract
and a mortgage
and one of those parties
where they put me up on a chair
and nannies
and a bigger apartment
and acceptance
but that's tricky because
to be accepted
in this world
is to be liked by this world
and that is to agree with it
and I don't,
at least not enough to be laureled by it
but a little laureling wouldn't be so bad
and even so, I had a little laurel
of my own
a little something I took home in a box
and sits on my desk
telling me to keep going
That was nice
Mark Hammer used to say actors were addicted to praise
and we needed to kick the habit
But I'm a writer
and as far as praise goes, you might say
we're addicted to a paycheck
to pay the bills
it's a form a praise
job well done
- I'm halfway through the first round rewrite
on the novel.
But it's going to be a few months
After this rewrite
I have another, but that will be easier
After that... I'll need money to pay an editor
Writing doesn't always flow simpatico
to Holidays
and family visits
and sick pets
and day jobs
and sudden onsets of bad news
that pulls the string of doubts and fears
like opening a broken parasuit filled with holes
And all these things must be dismissed
to face the page with something worth reading
something I would want to read in this story
the rest of it...
has to get dumped here
sifted for the gems that don't stink
clean them up and put them on the shelf
of the appropriate page
when I come to it
weave it into that pattern of words
where it will anchor a flight of fancy
with a root that reaches deep down
into the core of darkness
feeding what
will one day
be light






walk

we all walk alone
together
alone
together




I Miss Your Scent and Your Everything

his hairy strong manly thighs
rippling above dusty knees
hovering over broad calves
above wide feet with calluses

Arms that lift me with ease
a back I've clawed and caressed
heart thumping beneath a chest
where my head rests

Pressing weight of flesh
on top of me
holding me
as I hold him

The feel of him inside me
expanding me
tethering me to this moment
Blinding me to all else

I search the men on the sidewalk
for resemblance to him
Some share a jawline
others a shoulder

It's been too long since
His arms were around me
I miss
I miss kisses

Some lovers like diamonds
others like lace and leather
I like hours alone
and together

​



​
Things

I don't just love
the things
you love
I love
that you love
those things





I want to believe in the good of man

The bomb goes off and kills teenage girls
who are at a concert already screaming
their happy cheers turn to tears
and the caliphate under ISIS control
celebrate their deaths
in between raping twelve year old's
they've captured
they pray before and after they rape
they say it's allowed by their god
I say they are evil and evil is real

Our president says women let you
grab their pussy
if you're famous
they let you kiss them if you're famous
he's getting sued by women he
moved on like a bitch
but men and white women in droves
elected him to be my president
four defunded Planned Parenthood's
just closed their doors in Iowa

On Sunday a man on the street hit me
knocked me back a few feet
I was walking too proud and happy
for him
so he knocked the wind out of me
but he missed the girl behind me
She saw what he did to me and ran
I want to believe in the good of man
I want to believe in the good of man
Help me believe in the good of man

I told someone about the man hitting me
on the street
the stranger who out of nowhere
decided to release his hatred on my person
and he was astounded, saddened, sorry
he's an acquaintance from work
he's face was so kind and shocked
reminded me I shouldn't keep things burred
I told some friends who were kind
and I felt better

I would still like to be held
and hold someone else in return
someone I trust
someone who doesn't hurt me on purpose
someone gets it
someone I love
who loves me
​perhaps sometime later this week
or next
​If I'm lucky...









One On Every Corner

I get there and
The owner of the joint steps out from behind the bar
where he was hovering over the bartender like a ghost
He steps out and puts his arm around my friend
She's a hot number
He puts his arm around my friend
And me
Cuz I'm a hot number
And the part of me who decided to wear gold trainers
instead of heels
That wore jeans instead of a LBD
Who opted for the dark lipstick tonight
Feels like I made the right choice
That I can pull off this comfortable me
Who is still a head turner enough
for the owner to come over like he knows me
like he remembers me
like I'm somebody he should know
like I'm somebody he does know
but he doesn't know my name
Standing with my friend who is a hot number
and this bar owner with his arm around her
cuz it's her night and she's a hot number
The Star
and he puts his shitty arm around me
but I don't push it off cuz
A it's my friend's night
and he's the owner
and I don't want to make waves
B I'm a hot number and know the score-
the owner, the alpha, the ace in the room
wants to saddle up and swing an arm
over a shoulder or around the waist, ?
Well that's part of the deal.
Now, mind you if the hand wanders
I get to slap it back to respectable territory
but in the mean-time
if it's not crossing over to tit or ass
then I need to just shut the fuck up
and take the compliment that this is
that the owner wants to hang out
near my pretty face.
And I do not complain.
There are worse fates for a face.
I watch the hand so it doesn't stray,
I smile and laugh,
but this cheap asshole doesn't even buy a round.
He doesn't get it.
Not a good idea to nickel and dime
the pretty women who you want
to toss an arm around.
He's cheap.
I take my leave quickly cuz I don't need him
and I gave my friend, the hot number, the nod
she nods back- gets it.
I already paid the ferryman
already paid for my way on this trip
with my own reputation
my own work
and nobody but me can kick me off the ride
But I'm not a jerk about it
I give the owner his polite dues
Let his ego eat at the table of my attention
for a moment
This is not just a watering hole.
This joint is an off off Broadway haven,
an entrance into a society as sure as any cotillion.
But here there are no white gloves.
Just wits and shrewdness.








Fuck Mother's Day

Fuck it for the hard life my mother had
Fuck it for the children I'll never have
Fuck it for the children I never got to have
Fuck it for the expectations
Fuck it for the bad moms
Fuck it for the bad dads
Fuck it for how it devalues everything else we do
Fuck it for how it defines us
Fuck it for how it imprisons us
Fuck it for how it hamstrings our lives
Fuck it for the moms who become burdens
on their adult daughter's lives
Fuck it for how horrible it looks
to change diapers and not sleep
to nurse and give birth
to potty train and tantrum restrain
Fuck all of that
Fuck all of what I'll never have
and am too old to expect
Fuck it for all the chances I missed
and walked away from because they weren't right
fuck it for my imperfect life
Fuck Mother's Day for all those dead and gone
Fuck mother's day for the tears I'm shedding
for a life that will never life up to
Sunday brunches
​and flowers










On The Lam

I got to borrow your slippers
your soft fuzzy slippers
eat breakfast on the balcony
the fire escape
serene trees surrounding
the quiet inner block
you made me coffee
because you make the coffee
like you make us cocktails
you worked and were cheerful
my hair was messy
in that chic way
such a simple and perfect morning
so impossibly charming
I read wrapped in the faux fur throw
in my pajamas
stretched out and taking notes
from your books
you wiggle your toes
when you write and read
I do too sometimes
the buzzer rang and we panicked
but it was only ConEd
and
when you come up behind me
surprising me with affection
by wrapping your arms around me
it's heavenly, heady, dreamy and perfect
safe




Kfar Blum (K'far Bloom)

smelled like Jasmine and the desert
eating breakfast in the massive kitchen
fresh yogurt and fruit
fresh cottage cheese and hot pita
fresh cucumbers and tomatoes
stacks of bowls and long tables
communal living seemed pleasant

the high dive at the pool
I was terrified, but jumped off it
when I was five
it took so long to hit the water
I couldn't hold my breath the whole time
my father didn't think I would jump

on the way home we pass The Golan Heights
we stop at The Sea of Galilee
I wander over the rocks
pick up a small blue snail in my small hands
my father tells me about techelet
the extinct blue dye for tallit
after a while it's not safe to go there

my happy memories of Israel
are surrounded by the bad ones
like danger on every boarder
like my father ALL CAPS TROLLING
on facebook on my page or my mother's
so many mistakes, but we all make them
each of us our own unique brand

the complexity of my childhood
is made easier to comprehend
amidst the insanity of the world
in which I live
the adult me keeps the fond memories
tries to distance myself from the bad

the borders are always under siege
the peace treaty for the Six Day War
was signed on my birthday




​




Seeing You

​I always want
to see you again
to wake up and see you
in the morning
in the middle of the night
to fall asleep with the sound
of your heart
in my ears
breathing the scent of you
into my lungs
​feel myself full
with you inside me
I am enamored
fascinated
infatuated
arrested
enlightened
protected
happy
so very much
that at times
I have to pause and think
to myself
how miraculous it is
that you are
that I get to know you
love you
and you love me too
I always want
to see you
again





​
Mr. Sandman’s Dream

the site of you sleeping
in my bed
wrapped in my white duvet
your golden face and chest
and dark hair
peeking out
a caramel topped with chocolate
beneath fluffy layers
of whipped cream
so handsome
steam rising off your head
in the sunlight
your eyes softly closed
your mouth gently smiling
sometimes you smile
in your sleep
your arms
holding me tightly
I never want to wake you up











Our Tête-à-tête

Tell me about music
the library stored inside
your mind
Albums and Artists
songs and orchestrations
Ask me again if I am familiar
with them, 'no'
so you introduce me
like good friends

Whisper excitedly
as you show me
who you are
pouring over glossy pages
cuing up the next song
'This isn't right
that's not how it goes
here, this is the song
hear the transition?'

Yes
Yes I do
I listen rapt
staring into the face I know
the worlds it contains
still so many unseen
waiting there for me to find
stillness long enough
coaxes them out of you

my Mercurial quicksilver
releases to its Gem in i
opposite
and you unspool before me
like a cashmere sweater sewn
in reverse
warm, soft, enveloping
wrapping your thoughts
swirling around me

like your semen swimming
inside me
like your hands gripping
in my hair
like your heartbeat pounding
in my ears
as I lay my head
on your chest
you hold me tightly without letting go

This is a language
the scratch of your beard
the apple of your throat
the crook in your shoulder
the strength in your fingers
the sweet heat of your kisses
the mischief in your waking
the long gaze at the door
as I descent downstairs

This conversation is uncharted
yet, it is not lost
There is no destination
other than what we find
discovery mixed with recognition
a moving home
a logarithmic spiral mollusk
traversing flower beds
blooming








Today

The best days
are days when I can smell
you
in my hair
on my skin
in my sheets
The best days
are when I say something
and it makes you laugh
The best days
are when I worry about you
and you're okay
The best days
are when you make an expression
that I adore
when you have something new
to show me
when you
surprise me
when you are there
in the darkness
and I am not afraid
I shine back at you
and you see me...
The worst days
are when the world is falling
and it is falling apart
all around us every day
But even so
hasn't it always been this way?
And yet, now it seems more so
But still
The best days
are here now









Exit Stage Left

I'm thinking of ways to escape this shit
Planning exit strategies and plan B's
Looking at my rings seeing plane tickets
Grateful I never cashed them in for shows

Not every Trump voter is a racist
Not every German was a Nazi either, but
They all looked the other way so long as
They could quietly reap the benefits

America sold its brothers and sisters
Up the river while wearing a red hat
They let 'woman hate' dominate headlines
Blowing clickbate like professional whores

Don't tell me to calm the fuck down, ever
My People stayed alive because we scared
The calm hopeful ones were slaughtered en mass
The survivors knew to a pack a bag, fast

Swastikas like Christmas decorations
Adorn houses, churches, lockers, subways
We have centuries of being chased out
Of our homes, our jobs, out of our counties

I wear my Star around my neck proudly
An old man sees it, smiles, happy, relieved
Relieved? Wow. The relief is new I think
A young man sees it, smiles wide, no relief

The young man is not as scared as the old
I am neither old nor young and I remember
Stories of Matzo made quick






Remember

Life is Hard
but
I am
Strong



​
Missing

I miss hands wrapping around my shoulders
long fingers reaching around my arms and waist
as I breathe the scent of how you taste
filling my lungs and throat

I miss warm lips pressing against mine
pressing with a gentleness that says
you know I can feel you
and you want to make sure you feel me too

I miss soft lips tracing my cheeks and chin
finding my mouth, stopping briefly at the tip
of my nose as I nose into the crevices
under your eyelashes and outline of your jaw

I miss being looked at hungrily
happily
excitedly
lovingly

I miss being kissed
miss kissing


​



​
I Need a Minute

I'm on my stomach
so I don't press against
any of the shingles
on the back on my leg

I'm home from work
again
because I'm sick
again

I just need
one fucking minute
to recover
before I get sick again

The last time
it was the biopsies
the last time
it was the tooth

The last time
it was the procedure
the last time
it was the cold

The last time
it was the asthma
from the cold
with hives in my eyes

The last time
it was the herniated disc in my neck
the last time
it was the knee surgery

The last time
it was when I lost my mind
Sort of...
I just need a fucking minute
Just one minute
when the world isn't falling apart
when my body isn't falling apart
when I'm not trying to climb
some uncharted mountain
a pause
a little breather
a fucking rest
a nap
a break
a minute when all the answers
that everyone needs for the event
don't land squarely on my desk
So I can just take a minute
and feel better

I'll be back soon...
Gone Healing






He Loves Me Like a Tabloid

He loves me when I win
when I'm thin
when I wear the right dress
when I'm a success
He loves me like a tabloid

He hates me when I cry
when I veer to far from the camera's eye
when I want his attention
when his shallowness I dare to mention
He loves me like a tabloid

He loves me like a headline
He loves me like a star
He loves me like a review
So long as I don't take it too far
He loves me like a tabloid

He loathes me when I'm weak
when his help I seek
when I look less than rich
when I'm not a peachy dish
He loves me like a tabloid

He loves me like a man
who doesn't need love
like one of those tycoons
we've all heard of
loves me like a shiny bauble
that he won for free
loves me
love me
love me




A Look Inside

Four inch needles
on one side
Ultrasound machine
on the other
but the sound it makes
when they take a chunks
slices
like deli-meat
off of the internal
intimate
breasts
not one, but two
each one must be done
the sound of a staple gun
bang
bang
bang
and now we insert the titanium clips
just in case we need to find them later
the spots
for the surgeon
if it's cancer
the C word
I almost don't even want to write it
because it will suddenly make it
somehow a possibility when before
it was just a possible theory
but they are testing the cells now
and they'll call
they said
they'll call if it's bad news
so my phone is on
and the bandages are on
both of my breasts
I look like a sex change post op transexual not tranny
cuz my tranny friends who like the word
are not the young trans who don't like
the word
with these white bandages over my breasts
the medical tape pulling the skin
in odd angles
the sports bra I'm wearing to apply pressure
feels like the only comforting embrace
I know
and there are so many others who
have it much worse
and I would call them to say hi
but guilt stops me
and others who are busy
with important things
and this is a bummer
so I keep it to myself
mostly
and I take the selfie in my kitchen
not recognizing my body
looking at the me in the mirror
how did she get there?
Looking at me...
She seems so strange and sad
and old
but not in a bad way
she just seems old to me
and I put the sports bra back on
under a tank top
under a silk blouse with frills
under a strand of my mothers pearls
to distract from the uneven line
the bandages make over my breasts
the tests
and I look at my phone
and want to call someone
but hope my phone doesn't ring
Conversational Limbo
I don't trust him
I don't trust her
I don't want to bother him
I don't want to bother her
I text a friend and feel guilty
her mother and sister died from breast cancer
and our dear friend has it now
and I feel guilty texting her
Why am I bothering her
with this?
I'm scared
I say
It'll be okay
she says
I love you
she says
and I feel guilty
for asking to be seen
to be comforted
Why should I need that?
So weak...
I feel so weak and alone
but then
I feel better, but only sort of
and my grandmother calls
after I'm asleep
drugs in my system and a martini
and a steak for the iron
to replace the blood I lost on the table
Close your eyes
she says
The Spray
THE SPRAY?
the spray
Jesus Christ!
We expect these to be normal
they say
Good, thank you
I say
Don't shower for 24 hours
Don't work out for 48 hours
But I'm Fat and I need to lose weight
I think
but it's a terrible thing to think
and then I feel guilty
for thinking
they will not set off airport security alarms
they say
about the titanium clips
that will be forever in my breasts
I will be buried with these?
They never come out?
Yes
No
Just in case
There's no way to not-
no
Okay
So they're in me
forever now
This is in me forever now
I wonder if men get this
needles in their balls
I know they don't
but I wish they did so they knew
so they felt what we feel
But I wouldn't wish it on anyone
I don't tell you
I tell you
I don't tell you
I tell you
and I feel guilty
like I'm doing something wrong
I rest and go back to work
I work
write
submit
write
the shock wears off
the pain stays
fades a little
I spend too much money
taking care of myself
I throw money at the problem
that will fix it
If you don't have people to help
then you can buy comfort
so I do
I buy it
and go into debt
but I need the comfort
and I rest
waiting for the phone
to not ring




​
Untitled

Not much to say today...
Nope
Not much at all to say...






Not a Poem

The poem that goes here will not be written
Tonight
The poem that goes here will become
a novel
The Poem that goes here
is taking the night off
The poem that goes here
needs to make love
The poem that goes here
needs to cry into your neck
The poem that goes here
needs breakfast in bed or on the couch
The poem that goes here
needs flowers and kisses
The poem that goes here
needs to be taken seriously
The poem that goes here
thinks this is turning into a poem
The poem that goes here
is about to leave and go into hiding
The poem that goes here
wants more than she can say
and cannot have all she wants
The poem that goes here
is having a cocktail and pretending nothing hurts
The poem that goes here
hates being alone tonight
The poem that goes here
Is leaving to write about something
happy and funny and brite






Just Cause

The days fill with
gunshots
explosions
arguments
revolutions
traitors and terrorists

Have you ever picketed
in a line for my cause
or do you just expect me
to shout for yours?

Do you note when blood
is spilled in my names
Do you make posts
hold signs for me
for my people
if it doesn't affect you?
and yet I am judged
insufficient

The weight of the world
on my back
is heavy
I think I should like
to set it down for a while
and just carry
myself
fight
my fights
put food on my table
wash my hair
rest my eyes and heart
seek arms to hold me
even if they be none other
than my own

Which cause is the most
just
whose pain hurts enough
to matter
I am too tired
to measure such things
I am putting one foot
in front of the other
and going forward
because I refuse
to hold my life
hostage

They are all
Just Causes
Mine
Yours
His
Hers
Theirs
Ours
for this moment
I can only carry a few
maybe even one
at a time

I will do the best I can
it may not be enough
for you
And I'm still sorry
I shall never be enough
but I am tired of being sorry
while I try to help
my
your
his
hers
theirs
our
Just Cause




​
The Now

Time Passes
I see things with new eyes
Or perhaps they are the old eyes
I had
when I was young

they say you create that which
you fear
I must have feared abandonment
which is not something I thought
were true

Impermanence is
the only thing
that may be counted on
So I have been told
and now I do believe it

I was young and thin
and beautiful once
now I am just attractive
there are worse burdens
for a woman to bear

My mind stays quick
though my thoughts run deeper​
here in the ever stretching now
Wherein I cannot have
what I cannot touch or see or hear

But I can have whatever shiny bauble
the day brings
gently
lifting an errant strand
from my cheek

Well, that would be something
a charming little something
much better than nothing
in the here
and now





​
Ice Cream

There is Ben and Jerry's in the freezer
and I didn't buy it
I lik