May 22 – Part 1


I don’t want to hear that
I’m a jar of strawberries,
a door stopper, heart stopper
heart breaker, art eater,
rattlesnake, easy meat,
mean streets, bitchface
and that I taste like
cheesecake. He ate a keepsake and
he says he’s sorry with his mouth full, says
sorry with his eyes full, says
sorry for himself,
and I believe him. I fed him
all these moments in Toronto with
brie cheese from Quebec, but he said he was
paleo dieting.

My broken ocean floor is home
sweet home – stays calm, like
divinely divided sea, calm
cemetery, with gravestones shining dimly
for every  anglerfish with frightening teeth,
caught in an airy death when
the waves parted and stood still
and every waylaid bee with her frightening sting,
caught in the waves, parted and still standing

Now I am going to sit on a flower,
sway my hips for the bees, tease them
and coax them with their dancing language
through the trees until they cleverly
find a way to buzz through me.

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5 Responses to May 22 – Part 1

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