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3 Dollars a Basket (case)


tiger marks & orange bruises
black specks digging between my

fingers slipped, i couldn't hold onto the
stiletto heels i'll bury you underneath

someday when the sun is warm
on my back, sizzling the salvation

army threads i bought 2 years ago in bundles
for three dollars a basket & later the nightmares:

how do i fold 27 items closer, tighter?
how do i press them in between your

lips on my throat it almost feels
like new love like softness on my

skin between your teeth. time for a new
gag. you brought blood & now i tell you

my skull is soft in the morning;
sensitive to your fingetips digging

at the base ment door where i have
plunked you, hidden you far away

from search lights & well-doers who wonder
where you've wandered without taking

any of the bullshit you were so accustomed to
giving me space & time & exposing my psychosis

labeling me & then wrapping my terminology
around your little finger

scratching weakly at the concrete floor where i
have given you your space & time & time again

i tell you i love you i love you i don't mean any of this
but i have thin skin & a weak ankle & you wanted me

to show you the glossy vinyl goddess inside of me
you wanted me to dominate your thoughts & i told you how

you  wouldn't want to meet her, how she could conjure up domestic bliss
as easily as she could imagine slicing your throat

but you came carrying an orange love so big so powerful so violently emotive,
it erupted in my hands, splattered between my fingers & now the nightmares:

how do i fold two legs, two arms, one self-absorbed love
closer, unreasonably tighter?
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bex box : poetry : 3 dollars a basket