The Weather and Her Hangover

Oh my,
I wanted so
to craft you a sunrise,
but the weather had 
a bad hangover 
and just didn't feel up for it
so she rained all day.
And in the aftermath,
the concrete
looked slimy and unforgiving
like the stare 
he thrust at me
after I screamed 
at him
in my wrathful dragon's tongue
that night
he grabbed the pretty girl at the bar
with the red skirt on
who didn't want to 
be taken 
but he took her anyway
and I felt her heartstrings break
even from three streets away. 

What was I saying?
Oh yes, 
the rain kept coming down
and we took our mouths
out for a walk in it,
held our faces 
to the sky
until we almost drowned 
in her stormy wake
but it felt good
like the high you get 
when you get your eyebrow pierced,
pain and pleasure 
and those strange days 
in which 
I felt addicted to the toxic,
the dead weight lovers,
my drunken stumbles
in high heeled lace up boots
seven blocks 
back to my car 
in the middle of the night
because I had fucked you 
but didn't want to stay
though you wanted me to,
I sneaked out as you slept,
and my friends called me 
when the daylight came, 
told me I was acting
odd and dangerous,
but I huffed 
off those worry words,
refused to explain 
the craving to die
before I had to lose 
my brother 
to cancer
that took him
three years later,
kept adding poison
to my coffee in the morning
after he was gone
and mourning the loss
of reality and sanity
who fucked off
for a time
because they were bored
with my sad stories 
that I had told
too many times.

Then one day
in September,
I awoke 
and could see angels again
sitting at the foot of my bed,
and I noticed
the trees whispering 
to me again,
the lilies happy in the sunlight,
the owls 
chattering to each other,
enjoyed the snow falling soft,
friends with smiling faces,
tea and scones
tasted delicious once more,
and I knew 
things were getting better
and I laughed 
out loud for the
first time in a year and a half,
and it echoed
back up to the 
dark cloud cover. 

The Girls in my Head

We all had
our own talents,
ways of coping
with the mirror monster,
whatever that looked like for you,
always mocking gestures
and laughing to your face
as you wept with the weight
of it all.

Joy kept up with time,
compulsively checking her watch,
always wanting to leave soon
from wherever she was,
pressed suits,
pregnancy tests,
and scalding baths,
so hot as to feel
as if her very skin
could be turned
inside out,
just her way
to shake off the dark.

hugged trees,
ran through neighborhoods naked,
punched policemen in the face,
and danced in
the fall leaves
until her feet
turned smoke to fire
because she yearned
to fucking burn.

didn’t speak much
at parties,
but screamed in the shower
when her roommate wasnt home;
she quit jobs every two months
just to prove to herself
that no one
and no thing
would ever own her.

Krista hitchhiked to
new towns
and stole cigarette lighters
that she found
in the glove compartments
of her good samaritans,
which made her feel a
wild sort of freedom,
akin to the sensation
of airplane take off,
setting your sights
on the equator and
changes in the weather.

Carrie enjoyed
sniffing coke
in bathroom stalls
and only shared her secrets
with complete strangers
just before leaving the bars
that she frequented
so as to
unburden the twilight
in her skull
but never got too close;
she was a girl
that everyone
fell in love with
at first sight
and she knew it,
rolled her eyes
at their stupid faces,
not even remotely interested
though enjoyed
never having
to pay her liquor tab.

Lisa felt safe in libraries,
and this was the only place
she would sleep,
ripped pages of
Tolstoy and Joyce
out of their hard covers
before closing time,
and held their pages close like hearts,
to wander the streets
until the morning came.

spent her days
working a cash register
in a shopping mall,
and spent her weekends
weeping at the grave
of her brother
who had killed himself
after the war
to stop the visions and loud noises
in his head.

picked up men
in hardware stores,
asking questions
that she already knew
the answers to,
and smirking at herself
at the fact that
she always found at least one man
that was turned on by the young and innocent act.
She tied them to headboards,
left heal imprints on their chests,
and took their cash
while they threw tantrums
at her
that could only be heard
by the ceiling fan.

And in the end,
maybe you
should’ve just left,
wanted to just stomp your foot
and turn me into perfect,
the ultimate doormat,
the caretaker of all your woes and whims,
and then youd love me,
I mean really love me
this time around
as the bruises heal themselves.

Maybe we just die alone
with no one to hold
our dreams together,
just broken glass
and dirty pipelines.

But the moon,
she didn’t want
the hangovers,
the dances in spotlights at parties,
sex behind closed doors,
grocery store small talk,
the boys following
her to her car after work.
She just wanted
to hang and shine,
so she did.

Honey and the Weather

I answered you
before you left me
standing in the snow,
ice storm cometh
with my gaze
through your flimsy spine
whilst I held my mailbox
with the fishtail for a flag
that you had bashed the brains out of
the night before
when you were drunk
and swore you
didn’t remember.
Oh please,
I rolled my eyes
like pinwheels,
you couldn’t choke me
no matter how many tantrums you threw.
try to drown me out
with your raging violent screams-
I rang out
my bleeding drum,
pounding pulse
rhythms with my
dancing wrathful feet,
wailing chords
of fire and frenzy
that rose to the fucking heavens
to create the thunder
rolling down
on your sloppy head
once the spring came.

I always took the weather seriously,
and suggest you