I write ”and for the first time” so often that often it’s all a lie.
I forget that words have meanings that try to properly explain things
that cannot be explained; like the emptiness of having once, and never
having again; the sadness, of turning over one night and smelling
someone you love like a poltergeist on your bedsheets.
Your body aches. You can feel yourself sighing
all the way into your knees.
It’s almost Christmas and the matchstick girl is looking
into hundreds of windows, wishing that someone will say her name
instead of Grace. What is the word
This is a physician’s guide to the human body.
Your femur is called something else entirely with my eyes closed.
You slip your phalanges underneath my vertebrae and all of a sudden
this poem is making you sweat.
The man who accused me of stealing the can of soup I stole
apologized for accusing me of something that was completely true.
you wake up as a dark spot on the sun, and you can’t tell how you got
I guess I deserve that I can no longer fall asleep in this city
without seeing the man’s round and humble face,
the name tag on his uniform;
and the way he still watches me while I walk through the aisles,
waiting for me to look up to see him wave.