214. Suicide Attempt #18.5

If your mother is in the garage
with the car running
that means it is Tuesday.

On Wednesday, only one of you
will remember this faux pas
and for the rest of your life

You will be the one who remembers
the most in any pairing.

*

By Thursday,
everything is a weapon.
You are dreaming

Of your little sister again
and the monsters she does not need
saving from.

You have all grown up
into different kinds of flowers
and creatures.

213. Premature Hauntings

I began writing about you
long before we met.

Strange little prophecies,
bloodied roses thrown
on the snow.

They call this the wolf moon.
I would like for you to come over
and devour me.

212. Plight of the Cartographer (Please Come Home)

You want to be made
out of maps? 
It's too late 
             for that,
love.

211. War

Be selfish.
Dig into him
with your bare hands.
The sky will be red
no matter which path
you choose.
Cover your knuckles
in little plums
and do not apologize.
Not everyone wants
the olive branch,
least of all you,
you cold sad thing,
living on animal
instincts. Let the winter
turn your bones
into steel. Do not stop
for anyone, do not
turn back, for risk
of snapping your neck.
Bury it. Do not come back
until spring.

210. The Mathematics of Magnets

All of your bravado.
All of these circles.
No one shall ever touch you.
Tell him that's what you want.
Make him believe it.

209. Kentucky Derby

Loss is like an old lover
whose bruises you still carry
because you never learned
how to say I'm sorry
or I forgive you.

You try to learn how to behave.
How to sit still with a person
or a place and have it equal
contentment.

*

All good things take time, yes,
but you did not even think
that you would make it to thirty.

You owe the world now.
All the prayers it said for you.

*

Do not love him, do not love him,
do not love him.
Turn this into law.
Repeat it until your stomach is full
and you are sick.

He is outside your window,
singing. He is always singing
and waiting for you to tap along,
not understanding what it means
for your feet to be still.

208. Birthday Present

I suppose you'd like an invitation.
It's not all spun sugar and confetti here.
My palms pressed to my eyes.
I will offer what I can,

call you handsome and let you stay the night.
You have come
so far, haven't you?
The warmth of your hands
finally reaching the shore,

wrung and tired and aching to be clean.
So this is the trick to happiness.
You on the bed with a mouthful
of patience. You in the stairwell
holding me up against the wall.

You have all the answers,
so tell me: Why keep this many
of my slivers in your memory
if you're not going to touch me
in an interesting way.