WEBVTT

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So it's called You
Were The Bride Of Gin.

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Bride of men, you
followed home and let

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fuck you only to discover
that they already had a woman.

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A woman who would never know
what you had done with her man,

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never know what a shit
she was married to.

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You were enamored of
impulse, tearing flower heads

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from sidewalk squares that had
converted from cement to soil.

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How pure your longing to be
anything other than yourself.

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How difficult to
extricate the stem only

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to hold the scattering
brooding petals

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and how you longed
for that stem.

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Little former whore, self
you have almost outgrown.

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Think of Claudia
pining for Apollo.

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Her whole face turned
toward an idea of heaven.

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Think of the faces
turn toward you

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now as you recite from
the myth you have made.

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All of them listening to you.

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Of all flowers, you.

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