lucky 

I light candles over breakfast and pop that old bottle of prosecco it is
a celebration of sorts for finding two quarters face-up in the corner of
the faded yellow laundromat half a load of laundry I set the record
player to the highest volume and let it fill the studio apartment with morning sun
and my own laughter I call my old friend and tell her about what I’d
found and how I’d finally flushed those pills I dance while the telephone
cord snakes itself around the dining room chairs I bundle my parka
and trudge to the corner store to buy two cigars before I remember that I
quit smoking and buy mylar balloons instead they wriggle in the air trailing
and bobbing with each step behind I call my mother from a payphone and ask
her the best place to order a cake she laughs when I tell her about the two
quarters she says I’m being ridiculous and I say I’m lucky

trophy 

I don’t need
to feel afraid
when I look
into the glass
eyes of a
mounted
deer, my face
pulled wide
like the moon.
it makes me
think that love is
pretend, my own
artifice. I forgot
to wash all the
shampoo from
my hair again,
but your fingers
don’t catch
in the knots.
I lie still
like a bride
on her
honeymoon
or an uncooked
piece of venison.
you pull
my sweater
over my
head, your eyes
glittering
like a casino.
make me
disappear.