for men I have been  sex-kitten/goddess/mother/the hottest                              cherry red corvette/revving engine/tank

In a box I keep all the things I’ve lost: photos of faces long forgotten; places on postcards with no address; glossed over, all, by

Not the guy who knocked me up in high school. Nor the husband who stood on the balcony after our ceremony  looking as if he

her body crusted in fragile fabric, against the breeze that intentionally sinned upon the folds and curves of her tangled skin. my English soul in

Watch for a moment how his little feet brush the daisies polite as Spring rain, how dandelion fluff sticks to his raspberry kiss, how milk

We could soak in epsom & watch             our old layers drain clockwise let the salt encrust the pipes then

The voice I gave you was not my own because all I knew how to give were your expectations to close the quiet between us.

In my belly, in my arms, and on my back— when did I stop carrying you? What was the moment that, unknowingly, I eased you

The light and air cut our bodies into sharp shapes, making this mine and that not, keeping you bound in your cellular garb. I clamber

He opened an envelope heavier than usual A notepad fell to the kitchen floor like a book on coffee table A heart on the cover

My heart lay On the dinner table Prey in the open For you to feast upon Anticipation Rocketing through The cavern Where my heart Usually

Over 20 paces, I unpack the history, Force the meaningless to vanish, slag The tailings onto an invisible pile. Like a pirate flag, a skull-and-crossbones

I watch her pull out the small index card, slipped safely inside its protective sleeve, the typed words preserved on the surface, yet, beginning to

Without you, I shower twice as long. I press my cheek against smooth tile, a cool warmth in the gentle vibration of pipes so like

I’d fall in love with a pensive sort of woman, The kind who stops and stares at nothing in particular Then somehow smiles a grateful