Charlottesville Box

“The flowers are wilted. He’s not coming back.”

She opens her eyes, closes her eyes, and reaches for him.

He is young, simple, smooth, angular, and accomodating.

With eyes closed and thoughts of another, she traces his personal places feeling the wrong.

She does not want to use over the lost affair. She wants to be used up.

She wants to get over him by getting under and around others.

She becomes another’s dream girl love madness.

She becomes another’s haven from a winter’s storm.

She becomes another’s vaginal show.

She becomes numb.

He becomes hard.

She braces herself.

He whispers, “Gotta pee.”

He rises from the crumpled comforters, and leaves her.

She opens her eyes surprised her vision has blurred with tears.



i am not sure i really want your return.

i just want to know if i had an impact.

i don’t want you to think me a mistake.


i know you know when i write you.

i don’t know if you read me.


no, this is not for all the loves whose absence i breathe.

this is directed completely at you.


when you came on my belly

and did not care that i didn’t,

you made an impact.


when you change your mind,

when you stop speaking to me,

when you believe the worse,

when you ignore me,

you make an impact.



i freeze


as the snow