221. Celestial Beings

You speak to him
with stars in your mouth
and nothing happens
in the right order.
The days you wear poppies 
and nobody wants to kiss your neck.
The days you douse yourself in fire 
and too many people 
want to know your name.

Oh, the things you would beg to do
to his body. If anyone could challenge 
the pull of the moon
it would be you and your hips.
But there will be no novas
erupting on your tongue 
tonight. You are darkness
and you are light. You are terrified
and you are terrifying.

You are better than this.
You were supposed to be better than this.
The sky begins to fall on your shoulders
and he wants to know why
you are blinking, 
why you would not want
to see all of it
as it happens.

220. Love Poem

Once, in high school,
someone told me that suicides
go straight to purgatory.
I gave her a black eye
because
if there is a heaven
it was made
for people like you.

219. Harvest

I've decided to stop watering
the vegetables in the garden.
You haven't eaten in weeks.
What more could I possibly do?
I am writing speeches
about how we should move
to the orchard or Kansas or
the middle of wine country.
I'd like to see us flourish.
Perhaps I should shout
and not whisper.
You treat the cabbage like it's yours,
and the tomatoes as though
you don't have to work for them.
The peppers told me
they are disappointed. I didn't have
an excuse for you.
I'm hungry. Waiting for sweetness
to follow.

218. Battalion

Next month,
it will have been ten years
since I tried to kill myself.
It took me eight to begin
treating birthdays
as celebrations.

Now I wear dresses
for every occasion I can and smell
like soft marshmallows
and sparks.

There are so many things
I would not have gotten to love.
Good and bad.
I don't know if I'm any better
at this, but I can stand
near the kitchen drawers
without temptation.

That has to be something.