Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Shadow Figure

In my dream

you wake me

with your hand on my hip and

“Good morning beautiful”

whispered in my ear

but reality

is the bed cold beside me

and you far away

in a place where I exist

only in your shadows

And as much as you wish it didn’t

your heart still belongs to another

and I have learned

after many painful lessons

not to fall in love with a man

who loves someone else

no matter how easy it would be to do so



Although we have no place special to go

(except the bed)

I put lipstick on anyway

so you can see the trail my lips travel along your body

-the side of your neck

-the dip in your shoulder

-the skin above your 6th rib

-around your navel 

and down

(your Adonis belt a kissable constellation in the universe that is you)

and back up again

ending at your lips

me straddling you between my thick thighs

our bodies an antithesis

yours strong

where I need you to be strong

mine soft

where you need me to be soft

our pairing an anomaly to the outside world

but a comfort to each other among the tangled sheets

The Depth of Loneliness

I cried myself to sleep last night

tears pooling in the corner of my right eye

overflowing across the bridge of my nose

and into my left

and on down onto the pillow

Lonely runs deep

and burrows into my bones

as though it needs to feed on the marrow there

Hope isn’t a cure

but merely a sugar which feeds cells

already fat with melancholy

and you are far too beautiful for me

which pains me

since I still long to feel

your touch upon the small of my back

and trace my fingertips across your face

and press my lips to yours

Needle and Thread

You left me hanging by a thread

never one to tie up loose ends

you preferred to let it all unravel

and fall at your feet in a pile

Your life was a series of piles

piles of guilt

piles of shit

And god forbid you ever clean up your own messes

it takes courage to be the one to stay around

and mend things

and piece them back together

But then

you’re not me

I’m a seamstress of the broken

always believing I can repair

genetic codes reinforced by social systems

But I’m tired now

unable to reconstruct what rags I have left

so I drag it all into one pile

douse it with accelerant

strike the match

and watch it burn

pass the motherfucking marshmallows


I am the souls of the dead

who linger in cemeteries

incapable of finding their way

to other realms

loathe to leave their hollowed out corpses

left to rot in Sunday finery













I am the leaves
falling from the trees
crushed beneath your feet without a second thought
I am nothing to you
you do not gather me
and save me
you allow me to float on the breeze
hither and yon
coming to rest under long dead peony bushes
I sing songs
and recite poetry of a season
which passes too quickly
but you do not stop to listen
for you are preoccupied
with thoughts of flowers your mind deems more beautiful than me

Torture Chambers

I can still see you there
reclined on the rug
in my empty rental house
was that the 100th time I knew I loved you
I know it wasn’t the first
as that was many years before
if I was honest
I think I loved you the first time I met you
how does that happen
I don’t know
but now you’re long gone
left in anger
still I recall the feel of your hands
working hands
the smell of the outdoors locked in the weave of your clothes
and my mind
will continue torturing me with the details of you
until I die
and on into my next lifetime

Ischemic Colitis

You kept quiet about it
stuffed it
so deep down inside of you
it threatened to strangle your innards
ischemic colitis
years of shit you’ve swallowed
backed up
pieces of you dying
as you struggle to keep living
be a good girl
keep quiet
don’t draw any attention to yourself
with what you wear
or say
or drink
or think
they’re stronger than you
they know better than you
they have more money and power than you
so you shrink
and keep shrinking
now so afraid to stand and speak your truth
all you can manage
is to curl into a ball in the corner
and they kick you when you’re down
add insult to injury
why do you dare to be who you are
and live life on your own terms
Susan B and Elizabeth C
rolling over in their graves
because your body is still not your own
and some men still want to govern it
by wielding their dicks over you like a sword
letting you know
you’re still a second class citizen
who needs to bow down
and shut the fuck up
and remain in your corner

The Things We Carry

one day you just stop caring
because it’s easier that way
and it’s not like anyone notices anyway
except for those of us
with hearts like swiss cheese
battle wounded by love
carrying around the PTSD
like a rucksack on your back
nick nack paddywhack
give the bitch a bone
because some men think you want it
even when you say no
screaming it in your head
though it struggles to escape your mouth
because who are you
but a drunk girl looking for attention
and affection from filthy hands
and you always know
you always remember
when they didn’t listen
because the next day
and the day after that
your churning gut reminds you
you can’t look at yourself in the mirror
without wanting to scrape your fingernails
down your face to erase the ugly emanating from inside
and even now
thirty years later
you still don’t like what you see
and think you still deserve only the things
no one else wants

Hell On Earth

They said they’d pray for you

they’re all sending thoughts and prayers

as if spoken or silent words to non-existent deities
could get the blood out from under your fingernails
or the coppery stench of it from your nose

Pray motherfucker pray

while people continue to die
in the name of all that is holy
in the name of psychosis
in the name of wars fought in minds you know nothing about

while you read your book of fairy tales
and give peace to the asshole sitting by you
who will go home and beat his wife after Sunday dinner
because the roast was too dry

Your prayers fall on deaf ears

if there is a god

he’s ignoring you and the entire flock
as everyone here begs for an end to the madness
and destruction and devastation
in this hell on earth

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