I love a man who is not worth my love. Did this happen to your mother?
Did your grandmother wake up for no good reason in the middle of the night?
I thought love could be controlled. It cannot.
Only behavior can be controlled. By biting your tongue purple rather than speak. Mauling your lips. Obliterating his number too thoroughly to be able to phone.
Love has made me sick.
Did your sister throw up a lot? Did your cousin complain of a painful knot in her back?
Did your aunt always seem to have something else troubling her mind?
I thought love would adapt itself to my needs. But need grow too fast;
They come up like weeds. Through cracks in the conversation. Through silences in the dark. Through everything you thought was concrete.
Such needful love has to be chopped out
or forced to wilt back, poisoned
By disapproval from its own soil.
This is bad news, for the conservationist.
My hand shakes before this killing. My stomach sits jumpy in my chest.
My chest is the Grand Canyon sprawled and empty over the world.
Who ever he is, he is not worth all this.
And I will never unclench my teeth long enough to tell him so…