wonder
upon
waking to your back.
ink on my palm
marks me
used
blood at your feet
untouched.
no more an afterthought
than you are bound
to words you wrote
when strings were for breaking
things leave
and I am here
waiting
_______
i thought i wanted
cans of green peas in the pantry
warm sex on the counter
a twelve-pack of paper towel under the sink
(the plain kind without
hearts
cats or
little pink houses
printed on each sheet like billboards for
what life should be)
i see you wrestle with
a diaper
an omelet
a mid-life crisis
you buy
a guitar
an amp
a capo
two speakers
and
never
learn
to
play.
i watch while you
de-flea the dog
de-tick the kids and
defuse my tongue
(wouldn’t do to lose sleep
over something i said in a fit of
sincerity)
my heart bumps agreeably
my eyes crinkle comfortably
my toes curl just slightly
my instincts pound in vain
i should have looked closer.
i just cleaned out the cupboards
and the peas have expired
____
This has a new taste
like the salt on my lips
you
preserve me
I’ll hang our sheets on wires
that we crossed
with careful fingers
a whitewashed smile is tarnished
underneath
___
I told you I loved you
and you swallowed me with
one sharp kiss.
It was only when you
turned away
that I saw the eviction notice
on the back of your neck
a tattoo worn pale by
fingers
pillows
days
I had never seen.
Just another reminder that
I couldn’t pay the rent
____
skin slick with tomorrows
while lips between thighs
whisper yesterday’s poem
About the author:
Dana Roders attended Marquette University and now studies English at the University of Wisconsin- Parkside. She likes writing in the morning.
OH hell yeah! That’s my dude.