A One Seater

i reason,
i dont have to have any of those things
they said i did

i thought about cooking
just briefly,
i thought id cook for him
i thought about
hand holding
i thought about a friendship blooming
the kind that tends to bloom
between a man and a woman,
but for me,
hasn’t.

i thought about a couple
of those things

but that was after i stuck the knife in
and twisted it

and now im looking for happiness
in different places

i think again
about kayaking

i think about it
lazily

maybe someday
ill find a river
and a kayak
and just jump in.

When we didn’t end up dying

We are alone in my den
just me and my wounded
i dont want to listen
all over town
ive left little pieces
i cant drag anything
back into it
i have no possessions
i keep on losing

i lost my blood first
then everything
we needed to keep on living
my keys, the food money
my phone just all of it

i cant focus
i am a beast,
i am a mother
i have all these wounded
i have to take care of
i have me and my son
my busted leg
his ear infection

just us in my den
not speaking the same language

but there is quiet
there is just quietness
its all very morbid
i cant say i dont like it

but then,
there is my son
and he’s brought me

the medicine

Disappointment by Tony Hoagland

I was feeling pretty religious
standing on the bridge in my winter coat
looking down at the gray water:
the sharp little waves dusted with snow,
fish in their tin armor.

That’s what I like about disappointment:
the way it slows you down,
when the querulous insistent chatter of desire
goes dead calm

and the minor roadside flowers
pronounce their quiet colors,
and the red dirt of the hillside glows.

She played the flute, he played the fiddle
and the moon came up over the barn.
Then he didn’t get the job,–
or her father died before she told him
that one, most important thing–

and everything got still.

It was February or October
It was July
I remember it so clear
You don’t have to pursue anything ever again
It’s over
You’re free
You’re unemployed

You just have to stand there
looking out on the water
in your trench coat of solitude
with your scarf of resignation
lifting in the wind.

Managing as a Single Mother

My mind runs on a million schemes
how will i live
oh, how will we live
now that i have
this babe im supporting
my own personal jesus
a branded religion

oh, what will be the color scheme
where we are going?
I want it burgundy.
I want it all wine and blood and sunrise
and things gone buh bye

and theres this undercurrent
of what i did
oh, how i might of hurt him
how alone i am
oh, how permanently broken
oh, how i lost him

but, so?
I’m on my own
and even with me,
i have to learn to be trusting
especially now
with this babe im supporting
we’ll need so many things
on this new life, just to start it

and everything slows down,
once he’s gone
so i can see
today, i dont think of him

oh, when you’re alone
there’s enough time to think

Another Wild Night

“How did you even end up with him?”
“I walked into the bar, drunk, and saw a boy I’m not supposed to talk to lift his head up and i had to tell him off. So I saw Jonathon across the bar and called him over, told this young kid off and had Jonathon hold my hand through it.”
“Then what?”
“We made out in a garden, then he held my hair while I threw up.”
“That actually sounds kinda fun.”
“Yeah, it kinda was. I also got two jobs. I’m modelling now. And maybe local government? I don’t know, I was really drunk but also kind of networking.”