I'd Rather Live Like

we do not go days

without words

ours an immediate,

spontaneous combustion

fueled by rubbish from

internal basements

the windows are open;

our neighbors hear,

we wrestle on
shamelessly, inevitably

rage rests painful
in our throats, our
anger a shift in plates

that can no longer

bear the strain

we push into it,
armed, fierce;
our separate truths
skewed, accurate,
faulty, telling

we emerge
spent warriors
who seek peace

washed clean;
reconcilled,
unshakeable

Succubus

she made love like a scientist
lowering hips on pulleys
strung with words and alcohol

right there, baby
she busied you

examined every pock scar,
freckle, flecked iris,
traced ballpoint-lettered l-o-v-e
spelled across knuckles
indifferent to the word

fingers kneaded flesh, begging
her hot breath like ether,
thighs a silken vise;
she took her samples

she entered through skin,
topical on your tongue
two days later

Dreaming on Flu Meds

again, with you

my subconscious
intoxicated, trapped
in a late-night, corner booth

allowed, inserted
between you and an
other of indistinct face

(have I been
so easily replaced)

you are an ancient, 

like the ripped vinyl 

jagged and sticky

the naked, barest bits 

suffer as my 

awkward self escapes 

all the reluctant agony 

cries me to wake;
I do battle with
tangled, weeping sheets

Her Survival

she will not ask

hers a breath trapped; 

the remnants of a girl

threadbare at the 

bottom of a sagging, 

weary bag worn thin 

on the stairs at 3 am; 

an adult understanding

of her prepubsecent

dependence kept her 

in her mind, running 

into the dark street, 

towards another 

circumstance 

pleading with no one 

to flee the breakdowns, 

instability of fear, 

disintegration of 

all she had trusted 

do not deny her 

the necessary fences; 

erected before they 

could argue

she will not easily 

let them fall; 

hers, survival