Married To A Monster

not the kind you think of
when the word presents itself

there hasn’t been gifts
or flowers
or cakes

no declarations of love

I am veiled in quicksand
my ankles stolen
right from underneath me

A preacher speaking “blah, blah, blah, God” ….
and all that stuff

my dear family and friends
gathered around me
laughing

a single dove laying on
an altar
plugged into oxygen
plastic wrapped for perfection
suffocating

the caterer
with the smile of a thousand devils
reminds me to pay my bill

tonight we roast the dove

How To Sleep In A Gutter When You’re Not Dead

Curl up raw, stranger. Where is your
husband’s thick pockets?
You must be one of those different
colours.

I’m dead on my feet, you’re
sleeping in the gutter. Five days
in February – we both struggle.

Half a dozen snowflakes
ring the city, one man
hangs high above the river
two blocks down –

I can’t get my gown down
when I hear the secrets –
you shiver under the ice
and I like it,

biting my bottom lip, I’m nervous
for the next move.
Who’s it to be? Me or You?
All is well and dead on this side
but you look alive –
try to get a grip around your neck, but
you slump over
the cold.

Where did he go with his large gloves?
Are you beating like a cat fish or more
like drums?
Your colour is looking frozen.
Don’t pull those tears off too early or
you won’t recognize me.

I’m sorry for you, sister, losing
in this land, but when I see your secrets,
I tremble from a cursed realm
and I am ready to fade into the big city,
9 o’clock,
locked up with something like a vacuum cleaner
and let you go.

Three Minutes In

Three minutes in – I am a dream.
Have you ever been met
by a mirror? Twisted like
eyebrows in confusion.
Steel eye compartments
ready for battle.

Nail my head to the floor,
my only choice is to look up
to neighbors…
to enemies.

The minutes slice off the clock
as we talk – I am imaginary.
She sees me with her husband,
white t-shirt sucked to my
chest, wet from digestion –
I am the dark apple.

My bags are packed, my body
on 90 miles per hour.
The hidden highway – I carve three minutes in-
distressed almond skinny
dipping in shame.
Have you seen me today?
Have you looked in the mirror?