Look at this tragedy cherry red and well
glossed look at this tragedy a child's face the eyes doused
in old folks' chemicals look
at this tragedy the wheels still spinning under
broken pine the sap rising the gas pooling the blood
falling look at this tragedy she's crowning she's alone
she's screaming look
at this tragedy the dog pulls but the iron holds and the
water rises the hurricane nears look at this
tragedy one toy gun in a park three real bullets no
CPR then a dead kid look at this tragedy her fists
again at her head she can't process anything but her
fists look at this tragedy look this
too can be yours

I feel heavy tonight
I feel like you left me

That I could stand in front of all of your mirrors and not be seen

I am tired

Why can't you give me back to me? Like the necklace
or the house key
or the old t shirt
or the mug
and the box of mint tea

(You did forget the tea. I imagine you
finding it
some months from now. A memory
that smells like sex and discomfort.)

I feel ungrounded. I used to say fallow

Now I think only barren
The diagnosis is that I can't be diagnosed and
Mary Baker Eddy says the fault is in my soul

The fault is in my soul

I dream my teeth are tan then brown then rot
till the whole top shelf slides out
like a junk drawer.
All gums, no bite. Rotted.
The rot is in my soul.

I feel the deaths pulsing between my hands.
They rot too, in me, for lack of air.

Look at this tragedy it too can be yours