top of page

these florid apologias 

 

7 years of language ripples out, 

alternately delicate & loutish.

 

I know you wish I would be impassioned less, 

be blonder, and wear a sundress.

 

I resent the sculptors who cite porcelain as a symbol of bourgeois purity & pleasure, 

but I want to be like a type of thing that you would treasure,

 

with your fine taste. I’m sorry I must live in a state of common abjection 

unknown to a man of your high connection. 

 

fluttering in this cruel mesh, I land where I can. 

I am a woman; that’s something you can’t understand.

 

...

​

I’m nervous to talk 

 

about anything

​

should the words smudge this

pharmakon gloss of aphrodisia 

off the surface of the night

 

​

 

<><><>

 

ooh baby you’re so fine

you’re so fine you might never be mine

 

blows my mind that a man like you

could love a girl like me

 

probably cause you don’t

not real surprised you won’t

 

ooh baby you’re so fine

you’re so fine you might never be mine

 

probably cause you don’t

not real surprised you won’t

 

<><><>

​

 

Lennon said if you live in the Roman Empire, 

why not live in Rome?

 

Don’t we all pray for a map. 

 

You’ve become 7 years new,

but we still click in the same wonderful ways. 

 

The taxidermied chimpanzee hangs,

mustily behind glass,

wearing a small red cap-

stuffed and adorned for the amusement of an epoch.

 

We both weep in movies about the American Dream.

 

To live in the land of cut flowers. 

 

To walk elegantly through these cobbled streets with you,

 

my friend. 

bottom of page