my sweetgirl rage waits patiently in the lobby of my body i tend & tide her nerves,
pray to her with silky oolong tealeaf futures & silence.
i am writing to convince you of my pain—
i am walking the tightrope of a cliffedge—the knifecut of wind toying me
like a drunk bartender
Are you open to a threesome?
i am not open to any old dreams except i like to say i am.
i am falling into bed
with anyone but myself.
i want to be lonely in the way the boxelder is.
i want to fall pretty & apart each season & come back anew
on my birthday, also pretty. i shaved my own
bark & cried when those who said they loved me tore the spile into me &
then i smiled when they hummed with my sweetness.
i told them to leave. i mourned their loss like the pain was mine.
i imported my sweetgirl rage—i swaddled it like colic—i was wrong again—
i doula my scream
into pillow so she doesn’t disturb
the walls.