27 February 2011

things i found in my closet

Marie Antoinette wig

empty vodka bottle

law school diploma


box of ballet shoes

prom dress

24 February 2011

haikus about men i have slept with, set seven

In bed you were prime
But real life? Oh Lord please help;
At least you love you.

I don’t regret much,
But taking your body was
way over the line.

You broke my heart
But I would do it over
To kiss you again. 

for more of this series, click here.

21 February 2011


velvet bag
heart shaped
nipple tassels
assortment of
googly eyes. 

say nothing at all

Betsy met Nigel on the bay on the last day of the year. When she looked into his sea foam eyes she felt like a blanket was wrapped around her tight, trapping in the warmth, fuzzy sweet sanctuary. Nigel could not speak, and Betsy comforted him with hugs and apple pies. Her favorite times were the mornings, when Nigel’s hair was furiously frumpled, and his eyes heavy with sleep. She would kiss his face, his cheeks, his back, the curve of his shoulder, the base of his neck. “I adore you” she would say, and he would stay quiet. “If he could speak,” she thought to herself, “he would say the same.”

The bay started to go too dark, and Bets could not stay any longer. “I have to go back to Beaumont, Texas,” she thought. “But I will miss my Nigel with the sea foam eyes.” She found him and asked him to go to the bay with her for one last night before her escape away.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to.”

Betsy went to the bay alone, and cried. And he never came to comfort her. She had not realized that he only uses his voice to hurt, and the pierce in her heart stung for years. 

18 February 2011

the leaving dance

I am folding each
each ribbon-
trying to make them fit
in a too-small bag.
Maybe packing should be something you do alone?

I've been having
always the same.
I am in school and about to graduate, but I did not do all that I was meant to do.
I am afraid I won't graduate. The whole dream is my fear of messing it up.
Sometimes in the dream I realize that I already finished school- several times-
but it doesn't take away the fear.

I walked down the river the other day
and the air was piercing cold on my bare arms. I did not wear a coat. I did not finish the class. I cannot fit the dresses and hats.

I'm trying to fold myself into a too-small world.

I hope this is the last time. I want every time to be the last time.

I'll miss you-- no lover has ever broken my heart so much as Paris.

12 February 2011

it is decided

I will have a girl
named Babette
and a boy 
named Friday 
and I will make
roasted chicken

11 February 2011


I am so 
because no matter
where I am 
in the
I meet the most
to share love with. 

just a reminder. 

07 February 2011


Belleville is the Brooklyn of Paris,
and you can see how the air moves around people there. 
As I walked I only felt
the slightest brush of wind on my face-
as if to say
if you weren't here, no one would notice.

Everyone is a stranger in Belleville. 
The streets drag on like improv jazz-
sharp words and low dips
and swirls of mini tornados. 

One day I will find the man
for whom the wind dances,
and his heart will be swollen with sincerity. 
He will be generous with his love, his time, and his experiences...
and will convince the air to move for me.