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on another blog
gross comment deposited
like defecation
on another blog
gross comment deposited
like defecation
Now that the snow is
gone, her neglected garden
pokes up stalks of loss.
Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”
Left in Manhattan
cab. Friends’ numbers, pix of my
kids in strangers’ hands.
On a cluttered Queens
balcony he stands, watching
the complex decay.
Accomplished nothing
’til I took Motrin a whip
that tamed this tiger
J9 can’t sleep since
her mother died stays up and
writes heartache in tears.
He drank to excess
so why am I the one with
the splitting headacne?
Dreams of Oscars like
sugarplums dance in their heads.
Hollywood’s Christmas.
Bright lipstick fools them
into thinking I’m well. No
“How do you feel?”