How to Kill a Bird

And this is my last one, I think. 

“The last one!”

I scream it into the empty fridge. 
I think of moonscape-induced boredom. 

I think of poorly made mugs,

thin pottery. 
A mug that needed coffee dumped in, 

the microwave that lit it up,

sparks dancing around handle and rim.
I send you notes, suggestions. 

I play hangman with your ghost. 
SPOILER ALERT
Every answer is “over.”
I’m embarrassed that I did not die. 

It makes those years feel weirdly vague 

and inconsequential. 
I grapple with the memory of our life, 

choke-hold it slow. 
I want to want to die. 
Your memory evokes a stale taste, 

cold beans on toast. 

Your mother’s words that made

my eyes 

water and spill over. 

The incredible embarrassment that followed. 
“Do you cry in front of your son?”
That, my flint striking powder,

that my incredulous gaze, 

dumbfounded. Aghast.   
“YES YES YES”
I barely remember you.

I wish I did. 

I wish for torment.

I wish regret. 
Your voice runs in and out of my ear 

like lake water 

when I call about money. 
I wish to be prostrate in front of

an imagined God. 

I want to want to die. 
Instead I am sowing sunflower seeds

left over from 

the ones we nurtured in pots,

unaware the roots would stunt. 
Watching them come up,

tear shaped buds

leaning towards sunlight.  
Completely unaware,

completely unconcerned,

with those 

that died at our feet. 

Port St. Joe, Nov 2015

Exsanguination.

Our life,

rattles around in my heart.

The memories like dead seeds

in a dry gourd.

In my mind

I see your footprints,

clean outlines in fresh snow.

As I would shiver and smoke,

on our salted stoop.

They went unnoticed by my

selfish eyes.

Your determined,

dauntless direction,

foreshadowing our future.

I am weak, I am lightheaded.

Your absence is a cut vein,

that pours regret like blood.

For g.

I wish we had met years ago,
before we both constructed homes of crumbling brick.

Before, scoffing at the cost of boxwood, we built the walls of our labyrinths with kudzu, which strangled out the beauty of
their intended designs.

Before we both refused the black spines of fire escapes for their lack of aesthetic appeal.

I wish we had met years ago,
not because these mistakes wouldn’t have
been inevitable…

I wish we had met years ago,
because these renovations
are going to be a bitch.

Old house near Leader, Saskatchewan, Canada

 

A Lie Women Tell

I just want you to be happy.

More than anything. I just want You To Know:

I just want you to be happy.

I’m back now, not that you’ve noticed, what with everything that’s been going on with you. When I saw you at the bar the other night, even with your back turned and that new shirt on, I could tell you’d been at the gym more. I left really quickly, just snaked my way through the booths twice and into the bathroom then straight out the front.

I got a good look at Her. That’s all I’m going to say because I Just Want You to be Happy.

Things are really great now. I’ve lost a bunch of weight. Really. You should see me. Maybe for coffee? I finally made the decision to truly commit to those yoga classes and those $77.00 Lululemon pants stopped collecting dust. I’m not as skinny as She is, no but, I’ll be honest and say I worry that she might have an illness or an eating problem. I know you have this tendency to want to guide people toward more healthy patterns and protect them.

I’m sure that she’s making good progress. That’s probably why you look so happy.

I want you to know that I’m totally okay with everything that went on. I understand that your transgressions were instrumental to you finding your peace and happiness and that’s very important to me, it’s key to me. You no longer have to continue the charade, dear.

I just want you to be happy.

I stumbled upon her twitter and then her instagram (accidentally) and was delighted to see that you all have a bunny now and that you brought it home after her dog died. It’s quaint how she writes as if she is the rabbit. Self-deprecating. Like you. You probably like that about her. There was a picture where she was holding the bunny and her arms looked rail-thin and there was a scar. Did she used to cut herself?

That must be hard for you to deal with, I hope you’re handling all of that okay—
I just want you to be happy.

I thought of you often this October, as the storm barreled towards your last known location and I wondered if she’d bought you any Winter coats. I always found stores full of junky, old things off-putting so I hope you were able to get some real stuff from North Face instead of Her thrifty things. I have some of my Dad’s old coats, quality stuff, if you need them.

I’m REALLY great. REALLY whole. SO happy! I have a legion of friends and lovers and I just wanted to email this to send a ray of warmth into your inbox. I just wanted to say thank you for cutting me completely out of your life and for getting that order filed. I never would have been able to find my own peace otherwise.

It was wonderful and completely fulfilling for me to watch the tenderness and compassion you have for someone so small and so damaged. Like a little broken bird. You are wonderfully magnanimous and admirable and I am forever grateful for the very brief time you decided to spend in my life.

I hope things turn out okay with Her and she gets better or eats something soon. This has taught me so many things. It has taught me that I couldn’t find my own happiness until I really wanted that for you.

……I Just Want You to be Happy.