in the frame, hair a mess and the plumes of smoke from her
cigarette jumping through her hoops
She looks down at her pint glass—full of what—and dazing,
droopy-eyed, breathes in the
tension in the room.
Then she looks, I think at me, her petite and
boney body pointing a sharp finger without needing to even raise a
hand.
She accuses me of “trying to finish a conversation already over”
wanting to “kiss the body of my lover, the one mouth,
the simple name without a shadow” and other countless things
as I tally up THE NUMBERS of everything she’s said so right.
She asks, much too loud for this hour of the afternoon
“WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?” and tells me.
Tells me what I want, as she sways a bit toward me,
arms with fingers, every one clad in silver rings, relaxed at her side
and plops herself onto my desk chair to say I’ve stolen her red dress.
The one that confirms his worst fears about her and
shows how little she cares about him
or anything except what she wants.
And she snickers, bluntly, how poorly it fits…
too flimsy and cheap for me.
She leans back and relaxing into her vodka-drowned mind
tells me that she knows. She knows “I can’t forget…”
she pauses, drifting the Virginia slim back between her lips, and
exhaling bursts out laughing about
“the long vein rising up along the underside of his cock”.
I wonder vaguely if she’s gone and fucked my man
however mine he isn’t anymore….and anyway
She asks me. Asks me to TELL HER if she’s going
to stop thinking about her losses now and listen to mine.
She tells me to tell her how I hurt and to dance with her
“dance with me while we fool ourselves.”
Then she’s whisper silent as she tells me
“starting things up was hasty, love” as I refuse to SPILL
and then I remember again
That she’s blunt and ugly
She lunges to punch me in my gut and sinks it
deep and penetrating ‘til I feel it in my chest,
when I’ve just held it all weighing there between my breasts.
She drowns me with my own sorrows and dilutes my words
to kool-aid while she pours out her straight Jack and I sip, direct
from her pages, hoping to strengthen my own.
+Written inspired by Kim Addonizio, a poet I have to "spend the semester with" as a "roommate" as an assignment for my intermediate poetry class. Really so excited that I chose her. She's going to be an awesome roommate to punch out some words with!
A few lines were "borrowed" from Kim from several poems found in her her poetry book Tell Me.
A few lines were "borrowed" from Kim from several poems found in her her poetry book Tell Me.
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