happiness became a waylaid comet

               chipped teeth      led me to wonder why everyone didn’t smile like      me as a child
baring my lopsided joy at the world      like if it turned out its muddy pockets      i’d find only glitter

you will no doubt hear sighing from the woeful little angel assigned to me when she remembers

and she’ll tell you              how nobody could change my mind when i settled on      pink walls

pink pink pink                               light dusty fading cottony billowing sweetheart seashell rose-pink

                i haven’t spoken to my reticent guardian in a while          i’m not a child anymore

and maybe if you got me alone            and poured me something i would tell you the real reason

sometimes i wish          i could grasp her slender fingers and tug them down        from the cosmos

                immerse her in the sticky      summers she watched me bemoan at age eight

                        make her trace    the wildflower patterns     on my bedroom walls

          let her taste the first lips that ever met mine      the sweet ones that wanted nothing

                         and then the ones that wanted everything      that kissed to injure

let her see for herself how it felt when the constellations inside my body     pulled apart like wool

                                                                         sometimes i hope she has left me

     i fear looking up to her aura and finding clouds of cigarette smoke or      just subway fumes

        mostly i am overcome with the childlike urge to hide      when i consider all she has seen

     i don’t want to fashion clothes from    foliage but i will try     and try to purge the apple