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Wednesday, October 5, 2011

This was my plan


Just like in the movies
You were supposed to come along and save me
I was supposed to come along and reclaim you

Since the beginning something inside me
mistakenly informed me that I'd become your muse
I craved watching myself become funneled
through the wrinkles in your brain
and smeared onto a page

I had delusions that my lemon sunlight would be enough to transfix you
Remember? I'm your Phenom
sent here to expose how different things could be

But how was I to know that your muse was already carved in marble,
seated on her throne,
a tempting apparition,
coalesced to your core

Your brilliance offered me compensation for my vacant life,
provided a testament against his meretricious claims
You were supposed to disentangle this nest of desolation,
but instead you fashioned twigs of melancholy and nonchalance

Ultimately the same thesis was echoed

the one where I'm left begging
and you remain locked in your atramental box

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell


leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.


- Marty McConnell