villanelle

I got my tattoo without you, but it
did notchange me - the needle buzzed the same.
It hurt my breast, but pain just seemed to fit.

I missed you there. The thought of you just bit
into my pulse and made me blush with shame.
I got my tattoo without you, know it.

You don't have time for me, you say, and bit
by bit I know. Alone, my heart went lame
and hurt my breast, but pain just seemed to fit.

The chair held me the way your arms had quit
around my waist, your heart had quit its flame.
I got my tattoo without you, damn it.

You'd promised me so long ago you'd sit
by me today, but dreams of you inflame
me, hurt my breast. The pain just seems to fit.

I took the loss of you at once, a hit
upon my chest, and no, you never came.
I got my tattoo without you, and it
hurt my breast too. The pain just fit.

Masturbation

Please touch yourself so I don't have to.
Guide your twitching fingers down to those familiar depths
to stroke and rub your own way home.
My hands are virgin; you are not.
Don't touch me, smeared and sticky;
don't touch me beneath my clothes;
don't touch my hand or try to kiss my brow.
Stop touching me and please us both instead.

Return to Eden

Adam turned to me today.
He said, "I want my rib back."
He punched me deep with those words,
touched upon the very insignificance of my being.
I told him to take it back.
Subsume me into his being.
He could have his rib.
I wanted poetry back,
the poetry that made up the trees and streams and creatures of Eden.
I wanted purity back,
the purity that made me sleep sweet within our heady garden.
I wanted perfection back,
the peace and perfection that made me love him because he was all I had.
I wanted my blindfold back.
He can have his fucking rib.