If you miss my voice but
an automated message will tide you over,
If I forgot my house keys on the
night stand again,
If you can slash my
credit debt in half with no interest,
If it’s Valentines and your
alone with a bottle of wine,
If your are left the only one laughing
in your crowd of friends again,
If it’s Sunday night at 10pm and you forgot
we had plans during the day,
If you’ve had an epiphany
and you care to share,
If your done waiting for me
to figure out your life,
If you’ve fallen in stinging nettles
and can’t get up,
If your without the courage to talk
to me on the phone,
press zero then pound.
The operator will be with you shortly
and they’ll help you sort out what
you are looking for.
all cats are grey in the dark,
except for the ones who aren’t.
and all these bridges lead to
bonfires, where the witches
watch the people burn.
once i told you that you were delicate.
once you told me you hated your family.
so i cried for you when your grandmother died,
and braided our fingers over happy dilutions
about taped eyelids and chelsea-smiles.
all cats are grey in the dark.
yet the flames illuminate us
and i can see your left eye socket.
it’s the color of upturned trashcans,
and juice boxes, and bitter smiles,
said at the end of an awkward pause.
once i told you to shut the hell up,
and then cried about it for a week.
i do a lot of that for you, crying i mean.
and you just seem to stare back, indifferent.
i never wanted to be joan of arc.
but standing here watching you burn
doesn’t seem to be any easier.
but maybe when it’s all said and done,
when my bridges are nothing but a
greasy spot on the pavement,
i can forget about your fragile hands.
once i told my mother that I’d be different.
I would marry a beautiful man
and raise my kids on pretty things.
But she blotted the mascara
at the corner of my eyes and said;
“all cats are grey in the dark.”