Rebound
| Unaware I’d been waiting | wallet in hand |
| for your incarnation. | by the balustrade |
| We bathed in boiling oceans | we ate |
| frozen sunlight, washed | down the strip swinging |
| hands in bleached sand. | to a tune called |
| A blue tulip for your thoughts. | razor |
| To your ear I simpered | menacing |
| obsequities: sell me | credit lines and |
| your expensive taste. | I was afraid |
| You know I’m good | to stop |
| for it. |
Like It’s 1984
| Our affections ossified | at financial traumas |
| a petrified closed circuit. | we smirked with |
| The boy who exhorted | the heavies |
| against mental masturbation | the only catastrophes |
| we began calling | existed in the ledgers of |
| The Great Masturbator. | a memory wiped |
| Our collusions were contingent | on paper trails |
| on etymological retreats | we looked slim |
| a thesaurus thinned by | solvent consumers |
| two hacksaws. When he | after all |
| pulled I saw toothsparks. |
Stilettos
| When he asked for lobster | soup and salad |
| he got dry chicken too. | made from scratch |
| I wanted to show him | I can clean up |
| my abject obedience | in a bebe LBD |
| with no hint of obeisance | bootcamp body |
| Everything stole time. | bought on my dime |
| He took his, measured me out. | halved and quartered |
| I hid the parsley | slightly wilted |
| under the red bolero | I julienned my paycheck |
| then wore it as a corsage | ate it raw |
| when he sniffed me out. |