You already left me when you took me to your only friend’s wedding.
You dressed us in matching houndstooth, leaving the apartment like we were off to test drive a spankin’ new car.
The bride in a glass dress!
a horror film.
Herself slipping down herself’s own body.
Everything she ever was before, ever.
breaking like eggs- left sloshing on the Camden City Council Chapel floor.
the dream of the fisherman’s wife.
a girl suctioned cupped; a rubber animal stuck snoring between her thighs.
Boasting you’d already picked the flowers for our very own wedding!
The choice only from all the flowers you ever brought home.
Imagine the pheasant’s eye on a giant Arizona Cactus!
At your only friends wedding,
Beneath the crest of the nape of your neck-
I stole a kiss from another boy.
We fought because I put on a sweater.
We fought because the water wasn’t right.
In the damp dishcloth light of your parent’s gingham kitchen,
Hot crisp silence stuck to our teeth,
You - with a plate full of fish and chips.
I - sat, eyes rolling, between the two halves of an avocado.
What should have smelled like your mom’s cooking and California,
left a stale vacant stench in the room.
Where did she go when she was no longer Picasso’s woman ‘with the green fingernail’?
Where did she go when the Pharaoh took to the tomb?
Seriously- where do I go when you are no longer my muse?
Me, on a plane to Berlin— I saw myself on constructivist’s cookie tins.
I discovered me sleeping, rolling to your side of the bed in my hotel room.
I watched myself dreaming, my silhouette cut in the glow of neon in Bermondsey!
In Cursive, ladies hand writing, ’The Last Great Adventure is y-o-u’!
I climbed to the bust of Nefertiti.
Gamine, alert,always alone, in a cold tiled room.
Through thin Hollywood lips, she about whispered ‘ I did it all’…
Dora Maar did too.