Archives :: Arlene Ang
I'm caught deep in the dye of her
Appeared in the Spring 2006 issue.
after Anne Sexton
What separates us is a page.
I turn it,
and read little white pills
between the lines,
her rotund o's have spaces.
These are the nooses
around my neck.
I am stained
by lipstick a transvestite
threw at me.
My fingers shake against
my mouth. The frozen goods section
will never be the same.
Cigarette burns are forever,
like diamonds.
Go ahead. Rinse that sleeve.
It's the desire to be clean
that counts. The dead dog
across the street
is her making.
Sometimes her stiletto heels
tap with affection,
sometimes walls close in
like her failing heart.
The sink fills quickly.
Madder appears gaudy
against porcelain. Then
I catch my husband
admiring her poems in bed.
He switches the night lamp off,
turns towards the wall.
My body bloats with shadows,
and it's one gray pill
after another.
View bio information and additional poems published in Half Drunk Muse on the author's main archive page.
Copyright 1999-2012 Arlene Ang.