After the dream of a thousand cuts
that will not end and the wounds
that refuse to heal.
After the nursing someone worse
that near-dead, back to life, while
your own pain, both inside and out,
is so intense, it is impossible to share.
After the passion of a Hiroshima
Mon Amour love ahs died, the shaved
head of desire.
After the inscribing of the a tattoo of
a phoenix rising on her pubic bone,
birds of paradise on her hips, her breasts-
after that, the longing that suggests a
deep water blowout resides inside,
then the spreading oil stain of her face.
After all the stitches, the clamps,
the stapled, the butterfly kiss of nylon
thread through skin: The Secret Life of
Words, Breaking the Waves, The Piano
Teacher, The Piano, all the irreparable,
damaged women mutilated by love.