Monday, November 23, 2015

A special offer

Gone boy, what can I say 
about you to my friends 
over drinks? 
That I walk this house making sounds
that become your name? 
That I pull on my own hair?
That I'm startled awake,
my mouth chewed by ants, my throat 
sore from their scratching? 
What can I say? 
What can they say?
Silenced in pity as I think of you 
rusting barefoot on our bed 
so I talk of Macy's special offer, 
this new cologne I'm wearing, 
its bright scent bursts from my handbag 
like confetti.