Blacklist

The world is
her mirror.
It‛s there
to shatter itself 
against her mouth.

In bed,
fuck you
she thinks,
and you and you.

And you.
Her mind,
she thinks, 
is a white plane
speeding beautifully
towards flight
demeaned by 
those inside.

She‛d try
women except 
that‛s been done.
And it might get 

earnest.  It‛s not her
it‛s the mirror.	

					
If only 

she hadn‛t been 

left so often
(so that now 
she always tries
to leave first)
it wouldn‛t
seem so hot
it‛s always time
for another drink.

To leave nothing 

behind but almost 

empty coffeecups 

and ironies tucked 

into places

you‛ll never find.

The world
(the mirror)
is a movie from
back when even
the poor dressed well,
and drunken
abandon had style.
A movie about her.

If she gave
birth her breasts
would give
vinegar and blood,
and the little tiny 
would feel guilty,
like the mirror does.