Joanna was six, Her face, her smile, gigantic For her small body. She played her violin, And I remembered My father’s heart: They had to stop it for the surgery, Saw his sternum in half, Pull his ribs apart, breaking them. We watched the operation Through a window, Bright red blood on the doctor’s apron […]
I want a woman who broods, Throws things, cries black eyeliner. The biggest eyes you’ve ever seen, She’s anorexic, in a coffee shop. She hates me, She yells and hits When she gets fired Or someone she doesn’t know dies And she wants to pretend It’s important.