Eve Rounds

the right stiletto

if only i could brace myself
no i’m taken
aback every time it comes from the
back alley
and kicks me in the jaw
heel. first.
it had been a pleasant
extended estrangement
unconscious on my part.

ever ashen my heart knows how to heal itself
from the
rage.
too bulbous a word?
on some days.

the shock of its impact
almost almost just barely
greater than the
fury itself.
too hefty a word?
not on this day.

i selectively revisit the joy
“you” “gave” “me”
the far away family that became
mine

i manipulate the daily disappointments
illustrated by your epic scowl
morph them into
dark lessons of
time

i reimagine my selfless concavity
as “opportunity”
bow to the things that accumulated
along the way

but still
i hate you.
too savage a word?
i don’t care.

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!

incircles

is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards