I had thought the tumors

some perpetual state of wondering

of the bad things an ache might be

a tilted tooth

and so many more years 

to live in this body

Italian Carnival Bread

We lied about the crusts I was trying to fry with tomato sauce and garlic.

Kitchen physics, the awry lie dodging what cannot ever be done with bread.

Italian carnival bread, we told her. For the festival of the pig.

Our misogyny erupting from the crevices of the sofa,

like the mould and maggots of the following summer. 

Waving away the Bean Feast,

mansplaining what should have been unmansplainable.

heat?

tell me when the heat comes on
then i'll go down to one pair of pants
i'll hang up my hat and vest
until the heat comes on
i'll be hiding under this blanket
with a shivering cat resting on my chest

MEN WITH BUTTERFLY TATTOOS

The light, wet day

is a hard pressing hand

not enough, but something

a faded, fucked up reckoning

a butterfly is different

than a swallow,

than a dove