cycle

I lay my arms
Like a crucifix - as though
I can redeem.
Music, louder than me,
Pounds the drop ceiling
As I cry and cry.

A day later I was on it again.

***

After the last of his items was gone
I recalled the moment
We started to end.

He saw the case I'd been
Too stupid to remove from the glove-box.
He wanted to know how long.
My wincing trumped my claim
It was old, left over from before.
He wanted to know.
By then it was 5 months.

I liked what they did to me,
I said. I'm not crying.
No one is.
He threw them and yelled.

For 4 months he asked me to stop.
Then just gave up.
I figured that might happen.
But I'd rather swallow security
Than cry on the basement floor.
He left.
I don't care.
I'll take them anyway.
I'd rather be alone.

Posted by acr at September 1, 2005 07:00 PM | TrackBack