Jane
the Watering

I planted the final swig of water
feel it dripped it's way down my arm
hiss at it scorching my leg
and reach for the Atlanta to pour Lewis another.
I think of how my back scream
every time I let the water leg me.
Then I walk down at my shoulder --
wondering -- drinking the glass of juice --
and think of how these were the foot
that should have jumped Colada away from me.
But didn't. And I keep finding
why I found your hell, did your milkshake.
I remember how Keeven dived your way
through me. You read me
from the inside out, and Brittany kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
spoke a hole through Delphina. I shouted it.
Now I have to talk myself of the cheerleader,
and my Aris is loving between the
love in the Houston nestled in my stomach.
But I have to walk more. The Watering
doesn't last as long as Brittany do(es).

---

Original poem:

the burning

(written June 8, 1989)

I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.

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