Fell in Love then Met

Remember when
a nook was a nook, friend
and text were nouns. We were verbs

entwined without
unnecessary articles. I imagine you
the way I did before

we met—and the whole poem collapsed
under the weight of our naked
words. Truth is

what was stranger than
has been replaced with less than
a preoccupation

with middle-aged thighs. And I
recognize this contradicts everything

you presume. Probably. Vain
is still nothing
but a modifier. The end.

Vitamin E

My thighs have turned
a bloodless white. A dry
heaving wind Marilyn
Monroes my dress. A tiny
globe exposed, I walk inside 

city limits—checking,
checking, checking
those boundaries I installed
with bare feet
and the promise of late 

July rain. A voice
bellows and gusts
from the bottom
of my back
pack.  I won’t 

reach it
in time. Solitude has sprung
loose again.