don't
you
love
her
madly
need
her
badly
boy
you're
gonna
carry
that
weight

the
memories
I
didn't
take
pictures
of
the
walks
I'll
surely
forget

it's
quiet
oh
so
quiet
like
the
kind
that's
unloved
and
left
behind

you
are
a
good
time
he
sang
and
I
wrestled
with
some
desert
ghosts

sing
to
me
while
I
imagine
myself
naked
on
a
circular
bed

I
don't
have
much
but
this
little
light
of
mine
I'm
gonna
let
it
shine

fog
through
the
tree
tops
I
said
this
mother
right
here
that's
why
I'm
alive

I'd
step
from
the
city
street
corner
into
acres
of
land
and
sky

she
put
on
townes
van
zandt
and
I
recalled
that
we
shared
a
birthday

it
all
sounded
lonely
the
train
the
rain
and
the
cold
cold
dark
morning

living
in
the
present
to
have
a
future
then
look
back
on
the
past

when
he
misses
me
I'm
the
happiest
girl
in
the
whole
USA

she
ordered
the
lord
in
a
pot
so
that
she
should
drink
and
become
whole

if
he
only
knew
the
many
times
I've
reached
out
to
touch
him
but
didn't

it's
heavy
so
heavy
like
someone
died
my
whole
countryman
quiet

and
we
need
to
believe
in
magic
the
kind
we
ourselves
create

we
wanted
to
talk
about
it
but
we
didn't
want
to
say
anything

he
always
knows
just
what
kind
of
music
to
play
in
the
cafe

our
hearts
flying
half
mast
the
spirit
of
my
people
wounded
grieving

will
you
say
hello
to
the
world
for
me
sadness
and
I
have
a
date

the
sun'll
rise
tomorrow
I'll
walk
this
road
again
the
sun'll
rise
tomorrow

she
didn't
ask
how
I
felt
she
knew
and
she
was
ready
with
her
smile

I
look
for
the
moon
each
morning
I
wake
every
night
before
I
rest

there
were
no
good
syllables
that
night
let
alone
seventeen
of
them

we
didn't
keep
all
the
promises
we
made
so
we
made
some
new
ones

I
love
saying
her
name
her
name
I
wish
I
had
a
cool
sounding
name

she
told
me
to
consider
the
moon
and
I've
been
considering
it

can
you
feel
something
without
touching
it
the
car
commercial
asked
me

I
wanna
live
I
wanna
die
I
wanna
do
all
the
things
in
between

where
do
we
go
when
we
die
she
asked
I
don't
know
I've
never
died
before

my
grandmother
the
plants
my
father
the
street
lamps
my
mother
the
fog

she
laughs
at
her
own
jokes
I
turn
what
she
says
to
me
into
poems

I
missed
my
grandmother's
I
told
him
love
your
jerks
I
thought
love
your
jerks

with
moments
of
hush
the
road
goes
on
forever
the
party
never
ends

we
talked
about
how
we
loved
odes
maybe
writing
an
ode
to
the
ode

I
sat
by
the
door
though
it
was
cold
I
could
smell
the
rain
when
it
opened

I
tried
to
ignore
them
through
the
repetition
of
angel
olsen

the
older
men
chatted
they
had
been
friends
forever
I
was
jealous

sometimes
I
kiss
my
wedding
ring
and
pretend
I'm
really
kissing
you

I
really
like
her
I
love
her
I
brought
her
light
and
she
brings
me
wise

I
looked
at
her
and
waited
for
her
to
say
something
but
she
never
did

she
sits
by
the
backdoor
when
riding
the
bus
she
has
an
anxious
way

the
light
came
in
I
didn't
care
what
they
were
saying
with
their
pictures

and
those
bushes
so
common
that
look
soft
but
stab
me
like
the
cactus

in
my
lap
I
nosed
her
curls
I
want
to
keep
you
forever
she
said

I
was
troubled
restless
envious
and
wished
I
was
better
received

may
I
rest
in
peace
praise
be
and
come
back
as
a
pink
lady
apple

maybe
she's
watching
our
soap
like
I
am
wondering
what
I'm
up
to

I
like
how
he
says
he
received
her
I
want
a
dream
to
visit
me

my
king
jester
rogue
knight
your
queen
lady
in
wait
courtesan
of
the
night

eating
an
apple
reading
the
handbook
for
the
recently
deceased

I
wished
I
had
a
god
to
pray
to
he
told
me
to
just
make
one
up

the
poem
was
an
apology
it's
the
only
way
I
could
say
it

I
cooked
bacon
for
dinner
I
wrote
some
poems
and
kissed
my
husband

he
was
a
man
of
faith
without
his
mountain
without
his
sun
with
no
sky

don't
worry
little
poem
even
if
you're
not
in
the
book
you're
still
loved

I
wrote
a
poem
when
I
was
trying
to
write
a
story
a
song

the
little
leaf
devil
we
walked
by
when
she
wanted
to
hold
my
hand

he
wanted
it
bad
I
shut
him
down
I
could
hear
her
missing
her
alps

the
husband
answered
the
wife
but
the
wife
was
talking
to
the
cat

the
deck
hand
said
that's
why
we
was
singing
we
was
singing
for
the
boat

I'm
going
to
meet
my
publisher
I
really
love
saying
those
words

my
tears
are
cold
in
this
weather
that's
all
I
have
to
say
about
that

she's
a
presence
that
likes
the
creative
she
sets
herself
up
for
good

when
the
book
you're
reading
describes
the
season
in
which
you
are
feeling

I
don't
want
him
to
need
me
I
want
him
to
want
me
crave
me
hurt
for
me

my
daughter
my
voice
from
my
body
to
your
mind
take
her
with
great
care

touching
him
is
over
sweet
never
and
dying
is
forever

he
sang
to
me
he
had
his
eye
on
me
I'd
go
home
with
him
forever

she'd
given
up
on
hope
but
the
dull
ache
of
missing
her
was
still
there

the
man
looked
like
someone
I'd
known
once
someone
I
didn't
want
to
know
now

I
think
up
perfect
poems
on
my
walk
and
forget
them
when
I
get
home

I
wanted
to
make
him
hungry
like
the
way
I
do
in
my
dreams

the
slug
resembled
the
leaf
or
maybe
the
leaf
resembled
the
slug

all
I
could
think
about
doing
was
kissing
her
hair
holding
her
hand

she's
my
little
doll
that
worries
about
death
with
her
eyes
and
her
lips

she
wants
to
know
what
death's
like
I
don't
know
I've
never
died
before

tell
me
your
feels
you
can
use
my
blood
to
write
it
make
my
skin
the
paper

I
would
tear
down
a
star
and
put
it
into
a
smart
jewelry
box

-anne sexton

I
read
the
whole
book
then
I
read
the
book
again
that
was
yesterday

I
lost
a
notebook
with
our
honeymoon
and
six
new
poems
in
it

it's
something
I
hadn't
really
considered
until
just
recently

it's
just
I
keep
thinking
about
the
note
from
her
I
found
in
his
book

I
shall
need
an
assistant
come
and
give
me
a
hand
with
these
bodies

loving
him
was
easy
the
hard
part
was
hating
him
she
welcomed
fall

pictures
of
my
grandmother
my
future
had
been
read
against
my
will

no
matter
who
the
girl
is
or
where
she
goes
the
mother
still
loves
her

she
said
when
she's
sad
she
just
wants
her
mommy
I
wanted
a
mommy
too

writing
dreams
down
since
the
1980s
I
always
knew
good
poetry

she
needs
a
kind
mother
I
don't
wipe
away
the
cobwebs
when
I
see
them

he
was
a
back-patter
the
type
that
likes
to
grab
your
shoulders
squeeze
them

she
looks
comfortable
in
her
clothes
I
feel
uncomfortable
in
mine

the
idea
that
we're
all
in
this
alone
has
never
made
me
feel
good

she
reminded
me
of
the
fall
roses
how
it's
never
quite
over

she
wanted
any
other
life
than
the
one
she
had
yet
she
wouldn't
leave

and
just
then
I
could've
driven
straight
off
the
road
and
into
that
river

I
had
forgotten
about
the
goatheads
thank
god
but
not
the
metalwolf

all
this
hanging
on
letting
go
and
then
the
doing
it
all
again

to
hand
someone
something
or
to
walk
away
and
not
see
him
again

they
said
his
poems
were
all
about
her
mine
will
be
all
about
you