Full title: "There is Nothing But the Crowd Cheering and the Sweating of My Teeth"

Twice I've known of this narrow stare,
this disdain flashing headlights at me.
Twice I've known the despair and the hollow
in coffee mugs and ashtrays and the
lights bending backwards off my spine.

There isn't a between the lickings
and our boxer's never stopped but
to reprimand. The ring is all
the bearing of things.

This stare

reminds me of a vacancy inside my soul
in its peripheral hatred and I am all
torn
up
about it. and I am all
cut
loose
about it.

Waking up early to a misplaced alarm
with the boxer nowhere
from which to be looking at me, but
I have dreamed some clever dreams,
some wicked dreams that jabbed me awake
and each time it's been the throbbing jaw
that's put me back to sleep where
narrow stares confine me and
I get up and walk away (repeatedly)

I am all alone in the sanctity
of his bed
not my bed
I didn't ask for this

And all the bells and whistles
cannot save me. The last time
was gone with a parade--

he and his belt of belts and
me with my pumped-up high-heels
sitting sappy
sitting pretty
dismayed and whimper-crying.
My boxing gloves pillows for the
cat-napping that went on
midst the quiet after. Twice

now this. And I have thought
myself retired for all these years.

11/22/2007

Posted on 11/22/2007
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