Letter To No One #1

I'm not very good
at letters to no one.
But she's taught me
a few things for you.
So I'll try.

Dear No One,
I wish you'd stayed.
This is it. This
is the life
I'd been waiting for. This
is that life
that devalued the nights.
If I died before today's sun rises,
persimmon gold & holy
the only thing I'd regret is that
I have not felt
the breathlessness, the
asphyxiation of love.
I really wish you'd stayed.
All it took was eyes, nothing
more, nothing less. After
all, it's not like I could
give you the complexity
of the doubt.

Today, I learned
that the reason you
weren't there was
because you were in
Mexico. I think she said
you were with your family.

When that persimmon
set in my West
I suppose it still set in
yours too.

Your flight comes this morning.
I really wish you'd stayed.






In Mexico.

Knives Don't Have Your Back

I put that photo of me everywhere, just for you to see. Staring straight ahead, I'm trying to cut into your soul. My eyes are paring knives, and I watch your heart beat under your chest, ready to peel the tough, thick hide your heart has grown. You can't keep me out any longer. I want you to look into my eyes and feel something hold you, feel something cut deep into you. When we locked eyes briefly across the table tonight, after prostituting to the intellectuals, we locked our wounds. You cut my hand, I cut yours, clenching, holding tight until this is real to you. We are sharing this.

And then, once you know, it'll be done. You can go, freely. Tend to your wounds. Because after you feel this, I voluntarily amputate this from my life. I refuse to continue to feel the disconnect. I will cut you. I will cut you out of my life,


and I will do it with my eyes.