it’s a sick sad stupid world.
But there could be two moons in our sky.
They could kiss every evening.
They could cry every dawn.
I am a small child again,
crying underneath the table,
shielded by the tablecloth.
I want to stay,
I want to stay when it would be too easy to go.
I am an always open mouth.
I am smoke yellowing teeth on a cold night.
All I ever wanted was for you to love me.
The psychic told me to forget you.
My mother said you’d come around.
My friends called me stupid.
I cried almost every night I knew you.
The Shaman threw the bones in the fire,
said ‘there is no hope for the stubborn.’
I didn’t know if he meant you or me.
The next night we danced,
so close and hot
I forgot every word others have said to me.
I unlearned my language.
My tongue had no mother.
I was like a small child.
When the phone rings,
I answer with ‘is it you?’
and it’s my mother,
‘has he come around?’
and it’s my psychic,
‘your heart is a door that doesn’t know how to close’
and it’s my friends,
‘amanda, wake the fuck up.’
and it’s the Shaman,
‘you’ll be a ghost soon.’