I lift a glass
from the cabinet

I shoot it once
into your eye

The truth lies
there I run

My hands
through a mirror

When I was a girl, no one combed
my reflection

When you said you didn’t want
to hurt me

You were setting it up
You were setting it up

You knew
you would

I told Nik on the phone, “If a relationship
could have a report card assigned to it,

I’d assign
no one an A.”

“A 90 is an A,” he said.
You got a D in bed.

Thank you for granting me permission
and touching my head before

You went down
the drain—

I couldn’t look
away.

I told my therapist
I wanted a shittier version of me

and a less shitty version of you
Why

can’t technology do what
we want it to do?

She said, “What would the shittier version
of you be? A lot like me?”

No
gap in my tooth

No
tattoo on my wrist

No
tears

No
tears

“Don’t cry,” you said.
“It wasn’t amorous.”

“It’s okay to cry;
I know it’s shocking.”

I called you a misogynist
to your ex-wife

She said she touched your heart
and felt ice

Melt, several times
we were frozen in the mirror

And I study the lines on your face
I imagine your unborn daughter’s face

She won’t be mine
and besides

Where does the life go?
In your eyes

The life, the life
bowing down

On wooden floors, I open the
door—“There’s no one left,”

I said.
I miss you so much

It’s grave: the cemetery
with its names cast into

diaphanous earth.
My grandfather

Carved stone; you
always made me feel

Alone, alone
alone

Thanks for the practice.
“Silence is a sentence,” says

the analyst. And what
part of your life will I miss

by stepping outside of it?
I want to miss nothing

I want to bow down
to nothing

I disappear completely
into the grass

where we last walked
hand-in-hand

past the bench
with the couple listening

to a transistor radio.
What’s the news?

Where were you?
When I said I couldn’t find you

in my head,
I didn’t mean to scare you.