mercredi 10 juin 2015


Frida Kahlo: Diego and I

In the rocket

ricocheting off my skin
that deeply held regret
missing missing missing
one's ancient homeland
or our hands clasping
or throwing oneself into
the Aegean laughing
all of it, shit...
it's got to stop.

My heart keeps
opening up like a
surgical wound and
no amount of peroxide
no amount of time
is healing it.
It wasn't enough
to slam you to the floor
and send you packing:
the need for you
goes on and on
like hunger
like greed
like the opposite of mercy.

I'm a condemned woman
I condemn myself
and I bleed
perpetual regret:
it's folly.
You're gone and
I know it.
I must forgive myself
forgive you
forgive everything.

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