[things I lost by “accident”]
You gave me the rings on my fingers and the
Bells on my shoes
Just like the song says—
Just like the Grateful Dead
And I sold them for $150
At Fred’s gold & pawn
And I never got them back
Because they smelled like you
And they felt like you
And the turquoise wrapped in silver
that you said was from 1962
that New Mexico silver that you promised
turned my finger green
just like I thought it would do.
And I ran through dust like an elephant
Rolling my trunk through piles
just to rid myself of the scent of you
and your fake peyote obsession like
Val Kilmer with hair so wild and long
that you thought starved mountains sprouted
you from the ground your sun-bleached
callouses touched—
But it didn’t want you and your New York muck
That turned silver green
Just like they said it would do.
Because my name is not Janis and I don’t have scabs
around my elbows like you
but my skin is bruised yellow alongside the green—
healing wounds I’d forgotten about
too long ago to count
pink scars from running through the woods with bare feet
bare feet bare because you liked me better
without protection
with lips sewn up so I breathed through my nose
but not too loud; not to wake you
not to wake you until I could finally poke my tongue through
and tear apart the delicate threads and call myself a bitch
before you
could call me that too
and now the bruises are yellow alongside the green instead of blue
because they are healing without you.
Jane M. Fleming is a PhD student in the Department of English at the University of Texas at Austin and the author of Ocotillo Worship which is forthcoming from Apep Publications. Her poetry and prose has appeared or is forthcoming in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, Barren Magazine, Pussy Magic Magazine, and Pink Plastic House: A Tiny Journal, among others. Her poetry, prose, and collage portfolio can be found on her blog, lunaspeaksblog.com. Twitter: @queenjaneapx