Red Letter Day


UNCONDITIONAL

Breakfast was:
heart-shaped pancakes
strawberries
a carnation in my lunch box
I love you so much.

CRUSH

Blunt scissors slicing
creased construction paper,
making love for third graders.
I save his for last.

It’s so plump with candy
it sticks in the slot. I peek
under the crayon-dented lid,
lose it gently in a shuffle of red.

We play bingo in pastel diagonals.
After G-5 he giggles, pointing
at the doilied envelope, then me,
my cheeks bright as cupcakes.

FIRST DATE

Girl wants to put on the red dress,
burn her hair into rings,
wear her first pair of high heels.

She wants to blink gold glitter, to feel
the weight of her mother’s bracelet,
a sweetheart rose corsage,
and a purse that holds real lipstick.

She wants nails that click against car doors,
tabletops. On the dark porch, she wants to slip
her hands inside his jacket and close her eyes.

She wants pressure on her lips,
shudders behind the strapless bra.

SWEETHEARTS

Maybe, if you paint it big enough
Purple and pink slung across
Hearts bigger than handprints
Bows and beads and balloons
Red twisted fists of petals
Cartons of chocolates, candies:
HOT STUFF, LUV YA, U R COOL
I’M YOURS, FOREVER

Maybe, this is all it is
Clumsy fingers and tongues
Finishing up before Mom bursts
In with groceries and chores
Just a show, just a play
Someone to stand with
Until the football game ends

GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD

ran away to California
with my next-door neighbor.

She only ate carrots in ketchup.

But now she’s run away
with a neighbor of his out there.

I hear she, too, is a vegetarian.

MR. RIGHT NOW

Short breaths stretch into morning
One square of light slips
Along the wall and settles
Across white chests

Her flushed cheeks sucking
In the fading fever, watching
The lips she tasted opening
with secrets,
She knows he’ll say it:

Let’s go skiing

He rolls off her, she’s left
To contemplate the skylight
And her presence beneath it

LONG-DISTANCE

I paint Volume I
On the cover of the photo album
Wrap it in pink tissue
And the generic brand of Kisses

After I mail it
I regret it
Because I know he has
Just enough pictures of me
To fill that book
And there won’t be
A Volume II.

SISTERLY

She calls late
Asks if I still remember
Jimmy Wall who broke
his arm in sixth grade
And made a banner
“Jimmy Loves Alissa”
We laugh
Who can love anybody
at eleven? She says:
Well, you loved me.

TRUE

We wrap ourselves together
in the middle
of the night.

One finger slips inside
my hand I hold it as
I’m sleeping.

I’m spinning inside I want
to say but settle for
good morning.

Whatever it is, it’s good like
laughing. And pancakes
with strawberries.