Degrees

Stephanie Kapinos

Smoke from my mahogany cigarette
Billows out from the short stack,
A stress relief factory with a byproduct of future stress.
Hand hangs out the car window
Bank sign flashes: 42ºF
Blow the sidestream from my face
As I suck poison from a filter.
It doesn’t protect me.

There’s a Hilton across the street
A blade –two blades— in the lining of my purse
I could finish my nonfat vanilla latte (the square’s heroin)
Then finish my hurt,
Room with a hot tub,
Song on repeat, something to cry to.
Leave a dramatic poem, perhaps a sonnet,
Written in blood
A note saying—“ I’m so sorry…”

The young Puerto Rican boy who made my coffee
Stands in the parking lot; I wonder, unfairly,
If he has a gun I could borrow.
Create a Pollock painting on the windshield
Leave no poem, no words
I am not sorry.

I told someone I’d stay; I’m not sure
I meant it then, I don’t want to mean it
Now

My fingers cold, shake the ashes to the ground
Wonder who else
Would have lived my life this long.
I think— ‘no one with courage’
I’m sure you think the opposite
Sing my praises of strength
As you pry the pills from my hand.
Amazing you don’t choke on the lies,
Suffocate in the delusion.

How long does Carbon Monoxide take?

I tried to find happiness in an alias, hair dye,
And false proclamations.
Fantasies of death
Kept me going,
Suicidal planning—
Life support for the psychotic.
The orange numbers of the clock
Tap me on the shoulder,
Hurry up please it’s time,
My hour is closing.

I put down the green and eggshell colored cup
Pick up a coke bottle filled with antifreeze and crushed
Ice.
The red ambers have burned out
Against the filter
My fingers are cold.

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