The Ways I Saw You
by Stephanie Kapinos
It was unspoken, but it was there.
This never-need-to-say-it anomaly
Congealed in my fingers from tousling your hair,
In the way you combed a room for me.
Toe over toe whispers buried in the floor,
A second each night we could both breathe,
But you look different than before.
Asleep on your futon, never agreed to share,
Took it upon yourself to touch me in my sleep.
pricked me with a nausea I’d tasted somewhere
in my past. Muted protesting, mind leaves the scene,
while mercury drips and slips down my cheek.
Awaken to ankle-set pants, flaky white underscore
Summarizes the night that plays each night on repeat,
But you look different than before.
Seal you in an envelope, while you’re unaware
I choke on my regurgitated hate. I’m trying to be
The absolver of rape. But I want to melt your
Face until it curls and drips down the hole of my sleeve.
I’m flipping revolvers between revenge and reprieve.
I imagine our deaths, slow and seeping into the floor
Soaking into the wood. I always look like me
But you look different than before.
Now you’re kept in a jar, all ashes and teeth,
But unable smile. I wish I had been your cremator.
Standing by your side now, it’s not hard to breathe,
But, then, you look different than before.
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without written permission from the owner. © 2008