I haven't been locked up in here to see the sun;
but I wish there wasn't so much leg
in your hair; so much slender athletic and young
in your lips, so that maybe these idiot poems
would not have to tactfully avoid the adjectives
it would have despised, if you hadn't put honor
back into "pretty."

We could walk, outside, to see the sun, and how.
The heads will turn, as if it was your job,
the boys will look and point and ask me later
"Just how did you get a girl like that"
as if you hadn't put the honor back
into "pretty."

Its cold out here, can you face the winters without me?
I had years to practice; without you, and all that
goddamned sun I've been waiting for; in all that hair
in its haloes and crosses to bare as the men all stare
and nod their heads and say "Your girl has a hot ass."
"My girl." As if there was no honor in pretty.

When you put your arms around me, your shoulders
were the pillars that allow me to move my legs
into any direction they choose to walk; and without them
I'm stuck in this chair. And your wrists may have been
like rope, and you could leap and spin like a helicopter-
honest to fucking god, backwards and land on one foot-
and the rest of them just imagined all the positions
they would put you in, as if there was no honor left.

But I have been locked in here so as not to see the sun
until you come back, because that is the only sun I had known-
the doctors want to shine lights on my knees,
you come back in december with a sunburn.
I could once make out every capillary in your skin.
Now, I'm lost; trying to understand any signal you may be sending;
coming back empty handed; and you are trained in these acts.
I want you here, in the winter, so you can be transparent.

I imagine that the universe has switched, and I am not here
having never actually known you. And all the times the sun
has come down into a pigeon kicking scratch behind it
as it takes off into the sky, all the discarded mittens radiating
Ultraviolet Radiation on the sidewalk, are only things now
that would have reminded me of you, had you existed;
and that you are far off now, a pretty girl in a pretty place
on a pretty day who I have never known and can only assume
gets stopped, time to time, but the sun crashing to the Earth
in ten second bursts.



-e.






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