Sunday, September 2, 2012



bluebeard had enticing eyes, large and deep and dark
as lakes, as shadows
he was graceful on his skateboard and had a throaty laugh
he said,
"i never noticed you
until the day you wore those high-heeled boots
and then i thought, hmmm maybe her?"

he took me to his chamber
and wooed me with sweet wine from fountains
and with dance and music
the lyrics went, "tear you apart"
but i chose to take this figuratively
the speak of pop, not literal

he did my portrait
me smiling at him dumbly
like an animal unaware of slaughter
he brought me swooning flowers
took me to dine in canyons
strung with fairy lights
and where coyotes howled

i let bluebeard do to me
whate'er he wanted
i let him into places
no one had been
i wrote him poems everyday for months
and he responded
with emoticons

when bluebeard sent me home
alone in the dark
when he danced with another while i watched
when he refused to acknowledge me in public
even with a glance or smile
i should have known
should have been grateful
instead i stuck around
one day too long

what frightens me of bluebeard
is not that he killed me
but that i let him


  1. My favorite version of this is The Robber Bridegroom. Not only does Dad sell his daughter, but the bridegroom is a cannibal. Yum yum eat'em up (no sublimated sexuality there, oh no)

  2. It is a very scary thing when acknowledge that we have allowed ourselves to be misused

  3. Search

    When I learn to forgive
    myself I'll post the answer online
    so I can search
    and search and maybe find
    a thread to stitch it back together.

    Identity is like a circus car
    all those painted-on smiles spilling out without end
    here's the smile you want
    no, here it is
    dressed up in fancy big shoes
    a new red nose, a new blue 'do,
    some striped duds that fell off
    the last issue of GQ
    if GQ was written by clowns

    I can never forgive myself
    for not being the coolest clown

    so if you figure that out
    please offer it cheap on ebay
    we'll sell a million copies make a million bucks
    I can buy new face paint
    scrape my chin blue
    maybe that'll make me a clown
    memorable enough to never forgive
    and not just forgotten

  4. Blue

    Wouldn't you think twice
    about a man with
    hair that shade?
    Or did she not notice the
    shine in his eyes, sharp
    fingernails on his
    long, clever fingers,
    so distracted by the
    violent hue.
    Didn't her girlfriends warn her,
    whisperings and rumours
    of ex-wives, and strange habits,
    strange clubs,
    and did hear about the one,
    and didn't he, and she,
    and they,
    and his hands,
    and his mouth,
    and his beard.

    What woman, wanting
    that man, a man of secrets, of
    sighs, of stories
    wouldn't open the door?

  5. Alice never thought of leaving,
    she never thought of leaving the dinner table
    and walking away, down the street
    tonight the rain is pouring and
    she knows the rain won’t stop
    her whole life can fit in one tiny
    neon pink backpack and her teddy bear
    from when she was five
    hangs out the side
    looking for love in the place she knows best
    on the tracks, in the snow, rain turning to ice.