for two voices during a natural disaster
When he arrives, he will see me
as I intend. Olympian.
Already the heat drains from the crater
sprawled on the bed,
coy in my garters
that had cradled the mountain of his shoulders,
and lace, as he loves me.
the slope of his masculine hips.
I pull the sheets
in around me, hoping,
Where do mistresses come from?
cocooned, my gaze floats
to the window,
I am Mexican chocolate.
picture Dan as he fords back
through the city
I am red. I am cayenne.
to his other life.
Taste me, Daniel, you will burn.
And you eat
The whole city seems awake
and still, as I was,
when he slipped out the door.
a taste for me on your swollen lips.
This is a familiar moment.
I crack the chain,
the housewife from across the hall surfaces
Sirens cut through my isolation
in front of me, pale as a fish.
Opening and closing her thin mouth,
singing my sadness.
she tries to dislodge words.
But the room is full of heaviness
and something is wrong.
Remembering the sweetness
that once seduced you
and now (I never let him see me
stir, send him away with the
I feel possessed with wanting
to tell her
me, languid and still
I cry at how you love me.
luxuriant in the love we’d made.)
I am ashamed, thinking
the neighbors will hear
You’re scalded and never sated.
I want them only to cringe
at how bodily he loves me.
I read her curlers and desperation:
They look at me through the lens
it is barely light,
of the side-view mirror, distorted,
knowing my life teeters on the edge
with the white loneliness of a new day to face,
the fires are coming —something
they will never understand,
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Psychic Meatloaf Poetry Journal