a little ways back
i remember you
stirring, stirring
feeling odd about fathers, money, long fences
where people stick their faces
and weep downward
thinking about wrapping up backgrounds
in other colors
like pink, leather, bad conclusions,
always a kind of adjusting
always about money, too expensive
so
i escape the bills
by paying them in curls of hair
or
erasing the parts about me or
sending them little conversations
about weight, my fear of
sitting down with mirrors, distraction, practicing my
little girl legs, so much uncrossing involved
and by bills, i mean recollection
the things i owe you
for displacement
for the chair next to me
where my name sat (my will to stomp)
for saying, break these in half again,
to see them little parts
me
and it gets easier
also, to leave
the things that get stuck between fingers, teeth,
two lonely people
names become the stuck in between pieces
other faces
we never think about
anything, but
hugs and puking and
removing the pieces,
all the women who don’t know me
who are a few years older than me
and the mirrors, disgusting like axe blades, i wanted to try them on
but
people keep taking off their reflections
it becomes the only thing i can’t look away from
near your face,
not always easy to distinguish you from
without becoming your
little handfuls
of bones
little handfuls
of bones
