“I’m already in the landfill. Gone,” you say.
But I can dig you out.
I’ll hijack the nearest garbage truck on its local route,
I’ll hang my body off the side, breathing in the air.
I’ll know I’m close to finding you when I smell burning hair.

I’ll hop down off my rusty ride—a pea next to mountain—
of human waste, plastic death, chemicals, foul fountains.

I’ll dig with my bare hands, no care for glass, tin can, or needle.
Or paper cut, or diaper rot, or fleas, or ants, or beetles.
I’ll search for what you cannot hide, that so clearly defines you—
for deep inside the oozing filth, your soul radiates around you.

A flicker here of silver, a flash of karat gold,
I’ll listen for your heartbeat while I'm digging holes.
And when I see your face at last, revealed 'neath the decay,
I’ll wrap my hands around your neck and wash the dirt away.

I’ll kiss you through the stinking ****, I’ll pull maggots from your hair,
I’ll sew up all your open cuts, I’ll lift you to a chair.
I’ll hold your hand and hug you—we can stay here if you feel.
You can be my dumpster king, I’ll be your queen of peels.

Once I had a ribbon
Very pretty and so long
I tied it in a lovely bow and it held on so strong
It was pink and silky
Slipping 'tween my thumbs
I loved my little ribbon when I was very young.

Yet overtime it shortened tied in many knots
The ends they frayed the pink it greyed and pretty it was not.

“Throw away your ribbon” “buy another they are cheap” but this is my lovely ribbon I even wear it in my sleep. There couldn’t be another I love it with all my heart I’d rather my ratty ribbon than a new one to restart.

“But that’s a silly way to be” you mustn’t hold so tight everyone can see now that your ribbon isn’t right. And everyone is thinking she could be oh so much more if only she replaced her ribbon and bought a new one from the store.

Once I had a ribbon
Very pretty and so long
I tied it in a lovely bow and it held on so strong
It was pink and silky
Slipping 'tween my thumbs
I loved my little ribbon when I was very young.

What fiery blade can I shove down my throat,
to pierce what lives inside me—
separate from all else?

Show me the blade.
I will swallow it whole.

To slice open my body,
and rip out my soul,
to sacrifice it on the altar of the whole.

To do no more than chime,
like chirping bells,
to be no more
than a wave in the river of hell.

We are holding each other still.
What has been is what will be.
I am yours, and you are mine,
for eternity.

if you know it
if your bones your skin your blood your guts know it
-what love is-
you understand.

Where are you now?
You are here with me.

She fits inside a shoebox—
A mourning card, a birthday card,
a cartoon on a napkin.
A wire bra, a notepad,
her photo softly smiling.

Now she is a voicemail
Now she is a song
Now she is a twinkling star
guiding us all home.

Will I, too, fit inside a box—
with no name written on it,
closed with a yellow rubber band,
sitting atop the closet?

Like a lightning strike-
electrically abuzz
grasping
for a rope then a bottle
of anti anxiety pills
love no longer within
reach.
Everything so bright so loud filament bulb burning eyes full of
salty tears
clenched like clamshells.
Vascular overflow like spring rivers in my head-
boom boom boom.
Faster,
boom boom boom.
Boom boom boom.
BOOM BOOM BOOM.

And you’re just standing there
bloodless
thinking about beers because you need to be drunker for this.

What’s wrong with her? Why can’t she be happy? I want her to be happy.

And I want to die. But not now at your feet writhing in pain, ignored, because it hurts that when you see me like this you look away.

"See how much I love you?"
Cut my wrists, string me up by my ankles, drink my blood tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and it’s okay not to be happy.

And you’re just standing there bloodless thinking about **** because you need to be higher for this.

So I swallow the stone in my throat that held back the deluge of all the vomitous feelings pill by pill like pounding rain going down down down.

Fading melting light
key in the ignition
I leave you behind
I drive myself to say
I took a bottle of pills.

After thoughts as the lights dim:

I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I am sad. I’m sorry I never felt like I was enough. I’m sorry I made you feel bad. It was me all along who hated myself and was too scared to make a change. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I couldn’t rearrange my brain.

I am the one people warn you about the dark secubus that ***** everyone dry. A demon. A curse. Leave me in my hole. Bury me in the ground and don’t mark my grave.

Then, be happy.

To lick between each
of your toes, and chew
crunchy grains of sand,

to pick the purple
lint from your belly
button and rub it
on my gums.

To bury my head
in the hairy pit
of your arm, and make
a nest for the night
like a little
weaver bird.

To let you spit in
my mouth and gulp it
down like water—fresh
from a mountain spring,
the kind with glass
translucent fish.

To dig out your earwax
with the tip of my pinky
and sculpt a bust
of your perfect
Roman nose.

To wear your hair
like a coat to the
Viennese ball,
and spin spin spin.

Woe the days I thought we had time—
that I could make love to every bit of you.