The setting of traps
has always seemed
like a tacit endorsement
of the mice.

Acknowledgement.
Validation.
Admission of failings as a homeowner –
(cracked baseboards or an unsealed gap in the door.)

We are usually responsible
for our own infestations, after all.

The relationship with the mice is codified
“you are vermin,
I am not.
I will ****.
You will die.”

Thus the mice are transfigured,
Christ-like.
Frozen in fear,
frozen in time,
laid bare
on a sticky, chemical
altar of sacrifice.

Saviors
giving their lives
so that we may preserve
those unwanted crumbs
in the vacant space
between the couch and loveseat
where the vacuum won’t reach.

I remember this girl
who went to the window
at dawn when it was still
dark in the winter and she
sees we have a long time
now that her father passed on
and we know we won't have to
go to school because the bus
it can't run, she slips her slip
over her hair and places it over
the chair near the fireplace
while I unlaced the sinew
of my boots, I remember it
well how we lost our cherry,
it was hard as a rock, like
breaking a wild horse, it was
a mirage of sound as the blood
moon sunk into the frozen ground
and I realized that the times
we can bat our eyelids, and
all of our nights and tomorrows
are not infinite, like love that comes
only once in a lifetime of sorrows.

I can't wait to have you watch me make myself beautiful for you.

Just to feel your body behind mine when I'm trying to fix my hair, or apply face cream.
To have you clip my bra or zip up my skirt just for you to unzit it again coz you couldn't bare the thought of me getting dressed so quickly without you indulging in what's yours.
See I want the little things that prepare me for the big things.

A part of me understood your silence when caught in the deep admiration of what you saw when you looked at me.
No it's not that I understood my own beauty, I took the time to understand yours whenever you couldn't blink in my presence
See you made staring at someone a sensual thing, it could never be rude when it was your eyes that couldn't look away.
You fixed your eyes on what you would say was "a breathtaking image of God's best creations" my reply at all time would be "aren't you one silly hopeless romantic"
Indeed your soul searched for belonging in the presence of the art you desired  desperately beyond comprehension.

I knew I aspired an artist within you to come alive whenever I undressed.
You were always caught up in the moment, I mean you grabbed my waist like the scars you saw were an invitation for you to come close,
You let your fingers trace each one as though you were slowly trying to make sure I love myself the way you love me.
You grabbed my **** with all its flaws like a scene from a **** movie, you wanted me and with one look I knew this was forever.
It was forever...

Dear Douglas so wise and kind
You know you blow my mind
With your black eyes and shining bright soul
You have helped me fill a very deep hole

With knowledge and wisdom that I have absorbed
No memory of words you've spoken can be recalled
But simply a knowing of what is right and wrong
My soul rejoices and sings your song

I’m grateful beyond words to know your voice
To feel its vibration, it was my choice
To open and welcome new ideas of old
And grow and develop myself into gold

Most nights
I reach inside
my mind
trying to unwind
those thoughts
like twist-ties
that bind
to keep the loaves
of bread
free of mold
and fresh;
un-plan the long
planned plan
of mine
to choose the time
of my demise;
and sometimes
I try to listen
closely to
the constant ringing
in my ears,
the rhythmic singing
whine and changing
tones that turn
the sadness
churning, the waves
of emotions raging
in my ocean,
blue as the bottle
kept by my bed,
sleep my quest; sleep
eternal, the rest
of death I beg, leave
me alone, leave
me one more night
of breath to breathe.

Then  memory so
Real
Like a day in the
Park taking
Pictures
Of your three
Year old daughter
And son still
In diapers
Relapsed
Into
Guilt loss and
Black
Stood without purpose
That loneliness
Divorced
OK
Two times a month
I see them
And you know
A man
Is not supposed
To cry.