Forgiveness

I just wanted to tell you that I know there were times when I was shitty to

you, and I'm really sorry.

No need to respond, I just wanted you to know that I know.  I hope you're

doing well.

Because I am a masochist

I read your flaccid apology

over and over again

hoping to imbue it with substance.

empty and hollow,

a facsimile of feigned regret.

Its three sentences

form a thin body

that lies,

sans the details of contrition

wan upon the page.

Nevertheless, I forgive you. 

Bread and Butter

He used to butter my bread.
But now I take my toast dry.

Excavating fear

What drove you?
Was it the fear
that you would never be enough
for your mother?
If I excavate the ruins,
will I find her
blonde face
in the dust of your despair?
The ruins of our failure.

My own fear
that I was never enough for my father
haunts me
stands like a shadow at the door
a monster under the bed
roots me to the floor
paralyzed
I should change the sheets,
but cannot turn the page.

our fears so deeply buried
lines of code
like DNA
they spell out
run
run
run

Medical Release

It was an artifact I never thought to find
amongst the unpaid medical bills, foreclosure notices, junk mail.
In the debris of my life,
I found your signature
small and tight at the bottom of the page
certifying that you would keep me safe.

Elizabeth  never warned me that the stages of grief could last so long

she never said that one little paper could inflict so many cuts

could the doctors and nurses have known,
the brevity of your promise.
how already you were plotting to rid yourself
of the troublesome woman, the mischievous girl
this walking hospital bed and her insecurity blankets
that covered you with love and smothered you in fear.


I can't be the first woman in history to pine over a broken love
and I certainly won't be the last, this is just grief looking for acceptance.

paint a beige wall red

Take the plates from the box
move the table to the left
find new homes for old things
paint a beige wall red
and build a new life
upon discarded remnants
past life possessions
well worn, loved, previously used
made useful once more

Did you know that the M-space of a teenager or an adult is only 20 minutes at most?

Dear ___________,

I read something today that I would have loved to share with you, if I could ever stand to speak to you again. I always respected you as a professor and an educator. Listening to you teach, whether it was that time I stood in the hall without your knowledge or the time I sat by invitation in your class, always brought a smile to my face. So when I find myself learning something really valuable about teaching, something I know you could benefit from as an instructor, well it makes me want to call you or at the very least write you. But I can't do that. We aren't lovers anymore and we certainly aren't friends. You are someone I used to know. I don't really miss you anymore. Not since I realized that underneath that feminist visage beat the red and bleeding heart of secret misogynist. You are a man more concerned with his ego, his fear of being a cuckold (which is in my opinion the roots of misogyny), and his pride than with anything else you profess to hold dear. There is a reason you are unmarried at forty. Yes, you can form longstanding relationships with friends, even female friends, and family. But you will never be a true partner to a woman until you can let go of your fear that she may take her pussy elsewhere with or without your permission. I could have ridden through the streets like lady Godiva but I would have never strayed. You were to fear filled to respect me as a woman. And while you would have never used the word out loud, I know you called me slut in your heart. So I cannot call you to tell you that while your lectures are funny, oh yes you had a gift for humor, they are too long. If you want to get better results with the students in your class you should vary your activities every twenty minutes. Provide more opportunities for group work and meaningful expression. You should give your students a variety of ways to connect to the material. After all if the goal of teaching is to help student's learn than you can't afford to take the easy way out and simply lecture. No matter how entertaining and funny your lectures may be. Yes, its sad that we can't talk anymore as friends. I would have liked to be friends with you. But how can I ever be friends with someone who doesn't respect me? Especially, as I love and respect myself enough to know that I deserve better than a short blonde misogynist, no matter how smart or how good in bed he happens to be.

Best regards,
The Goose Girl

Reaching hell

There's got to be bottom
to this endless darkened well
because how long can I keep falling?
without ever reaching hell.