Riot of Violets

walking back to our apartment
on the west side
I saw you running toward me
in your worn out
red Converse sneakers
dirty jeans sweaty band t-shirt
old glasses taped together
we goofy-grinned as you
held out a riot of violets
a pure moment
for the poor people we were
scraping up rent
eating boxed mac n cheese
no milk no butter
hot dogs on forks barely warm
bent-kneed showers
sloping walls of attic heat
naked in front of the fan
all summer long
we carried that free armchair
up three flights
our many books shelved on
two by fours and stacks of bricks
we laughed at our knocking bones
and loved what we found
on the street and made our own
bold faces absorbing the sun
drenched in rain
we drank it all up
barely surviving but
weren’t we beautiful
a riot of violets

I Never Went Back

to the spot in the woods I finally found your jacket, your shirt, your jeans, your sneakers, your glasses, and your beat-up red backpack after you swallowed all the

pills and were found wandering dazed on the road

to the therapist who said “if you call him I would say you’re crazy”

to the top of the hill where we met the justice of the peace

to the community center where we partied with our friends and family

to the psychiatric ward after we sat with your mental health team and they asked if you wanted to stay married and you said yes and they asked me for my answer and I said yes because I couldn’t say no out loud yet

to our photo albums and letters because I knew I had to stop crying about who we

were before all of it

to the divorce support group who wanted to know my story because despite knowing the facts I didn’t know myself or my story yet

to the place in my memories where we were only best friends because it was the beginning and should have been the ending

Who We Were

life as best friends was sharp, funny
we were weird crooked saplings
winding our roots together
you taught me not to give such a fuck
about superficial stuff
we were adventurous and simple
food fights and hiking

reading The Odyssey on the hill
lying in the grass discussing philosophy
wearing thrift store gas station shirts
stitched red with other people’s names
staying up all night roaming around
the city like stray cats
howling with laughter
at the stupidest things

I kissed you because you wanted me to

life as lovers fit a little wrong
then maybe okay enough for me
but I didn’t want to always
put my arm around your skinny shoulders
and feel your weakness slide into me
I wanted to be weak in your arms
at least occasionally

when I broke up with you
you threw a typewriter at my head

and pretended you missed on purpose

you tried to kill yourself
so I married you

I married myself to my best friend
because the note you wrote before
taking pills in the woods-
I’m off to the wild blue yonder-
was stuck in my throat
and to breathe I needed to vow
to have you and hold you
for the rest of my life

so I pretended, again, your huge cock wasn’t hurting me with every thrust
I thought about it a lot
what was there to do about it
I wanted you to go all in
because I wasn’t all in

and when I found vodka
again and again
on the fire escape
and when I stopped at your job
the fourth one
and they said you never worked there
and when I watched you sleep naked
needing to shed every single thing
that held you down
I stared at the bright lights
of the funeral home across the street
all night

I knew I couldn’t do this
the rest of my life

and when you held me down
saying you could do it forever
press me into the cold floor
never let me up
your eyes wild

we snapped in half right then
in a ragged terrible way
and I didn’t care

finally it was your fault too

my attempts
to feel like I liked being your wife
and your attempts
to exist in the world as a husband
were over.