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Contracting The Common Cold
Do you know how
frustrating it is to
bite
my
tongue?
You toss words around with such casualty
you make a mockery of my art
of my (he)art.
I leaned my hip on the back of your chair and let my hands rest
slight
atop your head
just to see…
Just to see what you would do
once I walked away,
fingertips trailing,
leaving your forehead
cold.
You leaned your head back,
eyes closed,
into the space where my
palm had just been.
So I laced my fingers back through your
pre-maturely graying hair
and watched you press brow to my belly
and sigh…
“This is why I need one of you to keep. One of your sex, I mean.”
[to keep to keep]
“one of you”…?
to keep
Please just say
“Not you”
—
You’re just worthless
You’re one in a million —
(keep me)
You talk of ex-lovers
tossing around names
like a magician
an illusionist
a juggler
with a thousand glass orbs.
Never mind if one
Falls
and
Breaks,
There will always be more.
You tell me not to worry,
that I am immune from the damage and disease you
inflict on female hearts
And how can I tell you
that all I want is for you to
I N F E C T
M E
(I want you in my arteries.
Be my
cardiac arrest.)
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