You've said what you had to say
You've said something true for you
And that's worth a response

You've said what I needed to know
Which is
You could not ever have loved me

Not put so blunt, but with every inch of
That self focused friendly way you have
Of tearing me, quietly, to pieces

I have been tired for many years but 
You with your bright eyes you have
Exhausted me

I think I know now what Ginsburg meant.
I think I shall go carousing down empty streets till
Quieted, I curl once about the house, and go to sleep.

Some days I look around and it's like
How did I even get this lost.
There was supposed to be a path, there were supposed to be clear choices.
Empty heart follows empty stomach follows
Faulty, stumbling feet.
When I leave, I will leave nothing of myself
And even less of you.

When I grow up I'd like to be a music box
Ballerina, and pirouette on tightly wound springs
That click with each revolution beneath my
Tightly bound feet. I'd like to be sheathed in pink
And childhood, be a memory instead of an action.
When I grow up I'd like to be gendered, normalized,
Less toy and more keepsake, a quiet reminder
On a shelf, of youth or what should have been.

when your fingers twitch
and my limbs fly in response, when your heart
sinks and i choke on the rising tide:
do not say submissive, do not say powerless,
do not pretend there is a lack of control.
when this is over
i'll return to my brightly-lit web,
my own little mysteries spun of silk and
my own incandescent lies;
for now your narrative is enough, the smell
and the sex and the sting of your love,
to keep me bound.

A canyon has words, too,
much more than echo, echo.
A canyon has steep walls
and an empty stomach,
a canyon has patience
that stretches for ages, eons,
much longer than the anger
of the river rushing through it.
A canyon has a history all its own,
is an independent ecosystem
with faults and flaws and fissures
separate still from the eddies they create.
A canyon has desire, has needs,
has miles and miles of dreams
unwinding along a path of hard resistance.

Spiders on the mantle, made it
Through the fire and up onto the brick:
Long legs splayed out, black on red.
John said there would be dragons,
I am not sure this is what he meant.
In another world she is straining,
Long legs splayed out, for a victory in blood:
Crowning achievement, the pink squall
Resounding when the tiny mouth opens, oh.
Here the fire is bitter orange,
Embers and ash and the stench of carbon,
And the light plays over my skin
Like a blessing for the bruises.
John said there would be dragons,
But I am purer than history, more dangerous
Than magic, more symptomatic than myth.

I want to build for you
I want to gather you up in both hands
I want to gather your past, present, and future
And build for you:
A path through the tall dark forest
With treetop waystations, filled with light;
Stair steps for the steep inclines
Rails to guide your hands, lanterns
Around each pine scented curve in the path;
I want to build for you
Among the giants, a way forward for your feet
When you are tired, a marked trail
For when you forget
(That I love you, that I need you, that I want you)
That the way home is upwards, always upwards
And always worth the climb.

in the doorway backlit
the long candlestick of your body
sheathed in metal, black, reflections:
the pulse of your smile
radiates, reflects my pleasure like moonlight.
you in that dress, your arms
lithe and bare at your sides,
i would like to leave handprints
on wrists, thighs, leave bruises
like love letters down your chest
from the heat and the pressure of my desire.