A friend and their Other
had a mature breakup
so as to make her a Friend
though not mine,
which he told me
he was very happy with
while he kept checking his phone
and finding again and again
a truth written
in a language he did not understand,
like if he tried to explain to me
how a cellphone works
or how something is probably wrong with the receiver
or what transpired between them,
that all breakups
involve tearing
and destroying
and a complete regurgitation
of another
for another
if you’re lucky
to break up
and still remain full.
*
She kissed another
like she kissed me
and I kissed her
like another
I didn’t know anymore
*
I’m all out of poetry
but poetry is not all out of me –
it beats me like
a bully for money
when I’m all spent
on cheap booze and girls
who don’t ask to be paid
but instead try to
swallow me whole
but boy,
do I give a mouthful.
Just ask the bully’s fist
who pounded
this poem into me
because I can’t;
I’m swollen
Discussion
No comments yet.