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poem theory unsent letter

when Michael dies

This poem “when Michael dies” is about my close friend who I never met in person yet.  I ask for her post-husband visit so we can be animals together, and I would like to comfort her in her grief. when Michael dies When Michael dies, freedom will fly into your life like a wild wind,

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family theory

rotten

Is it possible that a family has something rotten at its core?  My family has something like a horror movie woven into the cloth.  I don’t want to use the word “evil.”  More like diseased.  But that sounds like an ableist metaphor. Is this rotten-ness real, and if so, what do I do about it?

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family

my dad’s suicide

My dad’s suicide has been fucking me in the head lately.  I’ve been thinking about death way too much.  His death–my eventual death.  My mom’s death.  My spouse’s eventual death.  I’m terrified. It makes me panic in the night, which interferes with my sleep, so then I panic more.  I hate all that. grief spiral

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smut

direct request

“I need something different,” I told my spouse.  “Something very different.  So I’m going to write down my direct request.” He was in the mood to please me, even more than usual. “Ok, sounds great,” he said. a mood I had been experiencing intense grief.  I was in a mood, and I needed sexual pleasure

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theory

veins

My breasts never see the light of day.  They are the whitest part of me–the skin there feels thinner and fragile.  I have veins on my right breast that are visible through the pale breast skin. These veins are a big deal emotionally.  They make my right breast look different from my left.  I have

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theory

mask

“You wanna put your mask on and sleep some more?” I asked my spouse.  He has sleep apnea and uses a cpap mask. “But if I wore a mask, no one would recognize me,” he said. “I would, and Bunny would.  We’re who matters the most,” I said. “Ok,” my spouse said. “We recognize you

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theory

googling my rapist

content warning: sexual assault I found out my rapist died.  Googling my rapist is something I’ve done and asked other people to do for me, periodically.  This time my good friend offered.  I asked: is he alive, town of residence, and whether he’s in jail. I think this man raped countless people.  I’m an anarchist

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theory

gender trouble

My spouse went to read yesterday’s post with the meme of the ’90s kid about to instant message your girl, and he was confused.  Gender trouble!  “Is that you?” he asked. “No!” I said.  “I didn’t make that meme!” “Oh, ok,” he said.  “Wasn’t sure.” “I didn’t look like a boy that much!” I said.

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Categories
ritual unsent letter

death genius

I was watching a poetry reading online, with several readers.  A lady I don’t know read poems about her husband dying unexpectedly in a car wreck.  In her between-poem chatter, she said, “Grief is a solitary journey.  We have to do it alone, in our own way.” I stopped the video and started to cry

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theory

my ass

My ass is huge and trustworthy.  Yes, my ass will be my ass, all day, without fail.  It’s big enough to confound chairs.  It’s hella pretty, though odd. Odd with the lower, flatish wide part, and the upper part, also wide, which has a fat pad over my tailbone.  Also considered odd could be its

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