Under too small disco balls we tame our angst like broken baby bird wings; our palms softer than the lightness of our ruffled feathers. Too far
a fall onto the pavement, we face every morning in choked despair. On Sara’s couch a thousand times,

on hardwood floors two thousand times, girls dream of flinging rats down the drain

and them staying there. and them staying there.

Not rats coming up the drain, like the subway nightmare, like the long walks

home with keys between our fingers.

The vastness of the sky does not seem so important.

We bite our lips at our own profanities
at our own unwokeness
at for a long time I went to bed early
at girls across the bar and their wallet chains, and all our fantasies.

A yellow bike with blue pedals on a wet black bough. Dead fetus
found on a plane a LaGuardia airport. Didn’t hurt
much except the scooping out, didn’t hurt
at all the mound of flesh made humans two. Pregnant with nothing -
with modify our bodies to make ourselves unwoman.