After the Accident


seatbelts hanging us upside/down
can’t feel my right wrist

still a little stoned on teenaged sex
and the fight about the cupholder

a branch nods through the windowshield,
the car ticking like a wind-up toy slowing/down

shattered safe-tee light in my hair,
I unfasten and fall to the ceiling

crimson and clover/over and over/crimson and
still on the radio

(you crawl as if you had lost something small)

a slow volcano bump begins on my forehead

leaves fluttering down from the tree
we crushed

voices outside

a shouting like children in sprinklers.

Great series of portraits of the people sitting opposite of Marina Abramovic. Some of the faces recur, some of them weep. Some people can only stand it for a few minutes.

Fragments II


How she learned to ride the subway by herself.
How she wouldn't tell anyone but him how she lost her thumb.
How he checked the websites for new girls each night when he thought she was sleeping.
How her ankle wouldn't heal.
How she walked as if she almost shook apart with each step.
How the lenses in her glasses were as thick as a finger.
How she celebrated her 18th birthday.
How the cake tasted sweet but grainy, as if sown with colored glass.
How he took her to see the dolphins at Marine World.
How she leaned over and one held her hand in its mouth without breaking the skin.
How he was saving up for a pair of skis.
How he kept his money in the bottom of an old boot under the sink.
How she got the night shift at the 7-11.
How the manager called her a retard to her face.
How he forgot his meds.
How the dog ran away when he was trying to walk it.
How he couldn't make her understand.
How he hid his beers behind the bookcase.
How she started to find things out about him.
How she couldn't sleep next to him anymore.
How the plastic daisies lit up the kitchen.
How he washed all the dishes all at once, the water
so hot his hands were red for a week.

Equinox


The street buckles under her feet. Her purse
swings like the sun on fast-forward. The glitter

of dimes in the gutter, on her knees.The German
shepherd charging, restrained. Apologies whispered,

shouted. Restrained twice. Hot breath builds
its own atmosphere on her cheek. A high tin

sound like an angry cook at the sink: clatter,
clatter. Her hands at the sides of her head,

in her butter-colored hair. The sky before her
a jerky, old-timey film, eyelids fluttering up.