Monday, January 11, 2016


Before he’s back I’ll walk to the hardware store
at the hardware store I’ll buy brackets to hang my shelf
from my shelf I’ll sling my garbage necklace
next to my necklace I’ll place Phil’s prayer hand candle,
the little vase from Montana, pictures of the ones I love
I’ll take my vitamins, do push ups, watch the rain
I’ll think of home and wonder where it goes
I’ll sleep alone in the borrowed sheets (now mine)
and check my phone, and hang the mirror up with tacks
that looks like jewels – 
because it’s difficult to belong
to anyone or any body
my self so self

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