CURB YOUR SUPPOSED ENTHUSIASM
In my post-you world, I am often here:
at some busy intersection in my
city, a place you’ve never been. Cheap beer
cans are floating in yards, the new leaves fly
into my airspace. In my post-you world,
traffic looks appealing. Like I could spin
into cars, leave that figurative girl
I’m still hoping to rescue from within
your clutches, your tight grasp. As if you are
a cartoon villain. I am a cartoon
raped girl, living post-traumatic. Thus far
that name-thing-feeling is hard to shake. Moon
-rise illuminates each car’s hot mouth, I
am six years good at not crawling inside.
My ex-boyfriend takes a screwdriver to
my sleeping head, twists. Morning after, his
friends tell me run. They hand me five dollars.
But I mirror no holes. What can money do?
His hands are always so careful. In the car,
his mother is unsurprised by his use of tools.
He should never get married. We fill comical
water bottles at her place, take a trip through
mountains. A wolf births babies in a cave, pink
and new, looking as we do. She and I cut plastic
netting away from them so they can grow.
They reach our size in minutes. She says it
again, he should never get married. Yes,
of course. This is a dream. But for three
years I felt it. Like while I slept, he cut
into me just to see how much
he might like it.
When you call me a piece of ass, I guess
what you mean is you think you can scratch
off another patch of dull skin from your
scratch-off map of all the fuckable ass to be
found in this world. I think it’s gotta be red
underneath. Of course you can never hope
to attain a full uncovered ass map, no man
has the resources for that thorough of an ass
quest. I don’t mean butt stuff, though I’m pretty
sure you’re a little bit into that. I’m talking
ass figurative, list of women who you’d be down
to put your dick in. They have to fit a lot of
criteria. Baby, you should put that nickel away.
I can’t reveal any red you haven’t seen, even if
you fuck me through this whole cold season.
Cade Leebron lives in Columbus, Ohio. She has an MFA from The Ohio State University, where she served as an editor at The Journal. Her work has appeared in Brevity, Electric Literature, The Establishment, and elsewhere. She can be found online at www.mslifeisbestlife.com or on Twitter @CadeyLadey