Cannery

1

All of the sudden, one is missed on the
factory line. It wasn’t my fault, not my fault
the building roof fell in my eyes, I couldn’t see
and I couldn’t have known. There is a girl here that all
the duds at the shipyards swell over, go home get
their old lady’s pregnant over and most days you
don’t mind her none but today I missed one on the
factory line and all her hootin and hollarin asking
you why no one is paying attention to her is getting on my last nerve.

2

There wasn’t much cept maybe a little room to breath in homeless shelter,
I left my husband I left my babies down south. I had a black eye and two broken ribs.
I had a friend she got me the job here. She said he sided with the Nazi’s.
I said, I should have known

The first time I felt his dick I yawned. He was always a bore.
I would yawn or laugh and he would punch me cold in the face
I came to this little town with a black eye and two broken ribs
The thought of it, still makes me laugh.

3

My strength is failing. My resistance small
I old enough now at 42 to want my free ride and it just keeps coming
I am not going to put on any shows. The girls on this line are half my age.
Sometimes I still smile while digging through ashes of I was.
I could’ve been a singer or at least taught lessons but I
guess most people succumb to lessons in humility

4

They’re jealous. Most boys in this town are retards. I just
tease them to see how much I can get away with. Give them just enough.
So no one here really likes me except maybe two. I don’t care.
I’ve had to live being beautiful my whole life. You might think its easy but try
telling an eight year old she prettier than her momma when her father
already told her so.

5

This is a good life. My husband works in the shipyard. I got this job.
Three little ones and another on the way. This is a good life, one day we’ll make it our of this town

My friend, I remember once when we walked to the water. We laughed with the sincerity of children. The sun seemed on our favor and I said to you, this is a good day.
You said to me, “yes, it is.”

Happy Birthday.

1
For your birthday I thought to give you a
Beautiful woman who spoke in broken English
Who spoke while the water lines beneath us
Exploded over a dusty street in India
erasing the chalk outlines of who we ever were
before we ever denied ever being strangers, only

I couldn’t afford, India or the woman or the water beneath our feet
Nor would I want give you anything broken.

2
For your birthday I considered getting you a cookie jar for your house
but gifts like a cookie jars consistently get returned
When the store asks for a reason, it is always: I don’t need one
What people mean is: because it is meaningless
But then I reassessed the situation and decided I would get one anyway
Only not a cookie jar but a coffee maker
Because you need one but I sent this along for meaning
from my cookie jar heart.

3
For your birthday I think I’ll give you a truck
stop blow job and traffic jammed bed sheets and that under each of my fingertips I’ll carry static electricity
when the screaming sirens pass maybe I’ll give you
rest and maybe then I’ll lay cherry blossomed kisses on your dreams
these things make me feel like
I’ve taken non-drowsy cold medicine, btw

4
For your birthday I will not answer my phone should it ring. I will be a long distance runner with stockpiled reasoning. I will ask politely, that the pigeons stay away and carry a bb gun instead of a phone, in my purse.

5
For your birthday I want you to know that I’m glad you’re here, that your hair is too short to ever work as an umbrella that I’ve been growing mine out that I was walking this way and it was eventual and I am glad we crossed paths and that I’m confused that is the middle of October, that it feels like July.

Oh also on your birthday I wanted to remind you, that I really like the gray slightly above your ear. I find it irresistible.

Memory

Remember when my nerves
killed the roses and I ate only prayers
until you called.

“The sun”, you said “would always
come out again” but at the end
of the day I knew it would give up its fight
and surrender to the earth. I knew but
I never told you.

Remember when I bought your lust with love
And we sat naked outside of your window
Gravel sticking to my thigh, my thigh sticking
to you.

I lost everything off of that roof
dropped into the field, eaten by coyotes.

Remember when your life support hands
would sit on my knees and I really
had no idea,
I would miss you one day

Or that missing you would feel like
I couldn’t breathe

I couldn’t

Remember how I was crying again while painting
And tears stung the skin around my eyes like mosquitoes
you told me to look at you but “I can’t, I said,
“I have been drinking since noon”
You sat there quietly for the next four hours, waiting for me to talk

And when I did, I smiled and I asked you where you’d been.

Remember

Well one day I was sitting in a bath reading when I
decided I had loved you too long, then I forgave myself
for doing so.

I lifted my wine glass in the air and whispered “salud”

And on another day I realized I had not cried
in a very very long time, cept when I saw that old lady’s
thin hands on the muni, because they
like her were so very beautiful
so I rented some of those heart-wrenching movies
to ignite a response and ended up laughing
at myself for my inability to cry.

I used to hope to run into you so you could see how well I
was doing. I wanted to show you I wasn’t afraid that I wouldn’t crumble
at the sight of you but instead of you I ran into unapologetic groping
by a strange man wearing a wife beater in the middle of winter
I reacted like I had a razor hidden in my hair and he left running
I realized I wasn’t’ afraid I would crumble in front of you or anyone else
Now I know seeing you would only remind me of far I fell
and Id’ rather not be reminded
my memory is good enough