In the ground, in the bed, in the streets.
Where I was is a location without location, a gem lost deeply in miles of soil,
the brilliant cuts without hope or safety.
I saw you, I saw where you entered the room, I saw you come into my body
in unspecified places. Parts of our bodies were joined, merged,
the parts I instruct the daughter to cover—
this isn’t for everybody, I say—
and your eyes closed, your mouth shut,
any small exit for the psyche was cement.
Where were you when you were in me.
He doesn’t ask me where I was, the lies and truth
are simmering somewhere we don’t see, or don’t touch, don’t kiss,
no moan, no moon in our black sky.
A look may convey confusion, misunderstanding,
we have lost agreed-upon meanings.
I like to watch the looks between couples, between pairs,
between self-proclaimed better halves,
and pretend I can read them, imagine myself
an evaporating tear carrying mascara,
like I have meaning everyone could see.
Matthew told me when the frying pan hit his leg,
flung cast iron across the living room floor
and the accusations trailing like strobe lights,
he knew it was over. She had shaped her own answers,
the truth was useless, there was no use for truth, there was no use for the body
For all my flailing, I could not see the cruel thing that stood before me...