More interested in displaying remains of her heart

Than moving forward success

She would sit ministers down and demand full confessionals

It’s important that we empty ourselves

Before proceeding. She would lie in front of them

Pleading to their shoes asking for his job back

They left she packed. They left

She packed.

Her field research is on exorcism he told me That’s what she needs to concentrate on

A lifelong project to protect the possessed from the weak

She is the only one burnt, burning twice as theirs.

She can hide them and grow them and cure them and even if there is no autobiography

Let’s hope that the once possessed cultivate a memory.

She calls to say that the recent trend has been “grandmother divorces”

Some women put up with shit all their lives

And sometimes you want to stay for the children

But when those children have children

Your duty has been fulfilled and

They would rather die alone.

They kicked us out

We became too critical of the deadlines

The apocalypses that refused to pass

We gave away our stock piled water, rice, beans to the neighbors cross the street

We were supposed to bring them back.

We didn’t do anything right.

The man downstairs

He helps us from time to time with the rent

He doesn’t have any children or something like that

So he offered to help us

So if we leave now where will we go

We know that he’ll take care of us

You can leave us here and it wouldn’t matter.

You’re not the only ones with money.

On her honeymoon her husband casually asked her to loose weight

Right before dinner he sat her down and asked her to look outside

Jeju where servant girls were sent

To serve the thickest, bloodiest, political prisoners

The island of female pearl divers who kept the exiled alive

The men who continued by only writing books about justice

He asked her to look at the women on the streets

And count the number of girls thinner than her

If there is less than five than you can stay the way you are

He has a nice smile and holds onto his words

All his life he has been called kind.

All his life women have called him kind.

You become unfolded
upright, uncurvingly professional
most ready for the day—
here before he puts you on
before he walks, eats, leans on some steel metal chair
upright in presentation
crushing fibers &
making into edges the perfection
created out of will, desire.

I bring you to women with
short permed hair, black,
she takes you from me
promising to return you
uncolored, stain free, slightly scented
I think of how new you will be and
shop for buttons to press
shop for gold links to tighten to accentuate
wrists, hands

Working towards the white
Unstained, crisp, the almost

When you come home I believe you can be sold
to someone unsuspecting
to a pair of occupied focals
willing to guess you younger

We could not sleep together and pretend.
Without pretension you show every mark

Your collar tells me a story
two yellow circles thick
one gray tone wide
it reveals softer waists with
breasts still clean
When you come home I only see tomorrow’s
clean, tomorrow’s white.

Assimilated in water
when pressed you confess:
too soft to appear
needed with limitations.
Can I replace you? Oh yes,

Yes yes.

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