An ! In a White Bed

Picasso's Portrait of Jacqueline

Lady Hezbollah

You are the exclamation point in a white bed where I cover my eyes lying near the wall where I think I am not a coward.

Three petals in a bud vase and I pretend you are coming for dinner I am making nothing to eat there are three Luna bars on the coffee table and the Kinks are on my tinny speakers. Do you ever look at the phone and will it to ring I even sometimes see the outline of my body in the sky at night.

I have three children they live in my toes sometimes I step on them run over them they get back at me with ganglions neuromas plantar fasciitis I house them in wide shoes give them space sometimes they come home to me rested pain-free.

To-do list: bed sheets, goggles, eye cream, renew passport, Frank O'Hara poems, tampons, lube, condoms, pregnancy tests just kidding.

One year I was done with everything Where is the exit sign I asked I was like a baby lion in the big city too much noise and fast-moving people blank eyes and chords plugged into their ears. Nothing to do but find food and someone to rub my mane I was alone during wartime looking for home but I was already home god I hate it when that happens.

I thank all types of water for being good to my body and the clocks for getting me places on time and my clothes for fitting and the sailors for walking in their white uniforms with their strange languages along the waterfront.

Once I wanted you not unlike the way I wanted to reach out and touch the giant dahlia at the contest I was five and yelling Touch Touch Touch and we left to eat dinner at i-Hop and the next morning ripped up our flower garden planted carrots and other root vegetables some herbs.

I am a daughter a friend I am an aunt godmother lover I can be more anything you want it will hurt only a little I am not so broken anymore I buy my own dahlias I follow a stranger down the street until she looks over her shoulder to see if I am her younger self or just another person running for the walk sign.