My Shame

I can't tell you enough things
this need to commute all the wrong
in me --- it's so beyond broke
this inside place, core, which
I'm stuck in --- it's a trap; a hole
a fester gangrene --- every
minute of hangover couch;
history channel, sweatpants,
diet coke; it's cupcakes, cheetos
and marlboro lights; it's crying
to Selena in the middle of the night ---
como la flor, fuck the neighbor
such a bitch --- such a mess
the time she saw me piss on
the lawn --- I can't tell you how
this began. Run away, run away
run away baby --- looking
for something ---- coolness
thinness, straight hair, tight pants
longer legs, more guys, cute guys,
bad guys, any goddamn guys.
no one wanted me --- don't you see?
The only virgin on the block, in the town
in the whole world for all I knew ---
drinking drinking running singing dying
what better way to make them notice me.

Elisabeth Horan is a poet/momma/flower/animal from Vermont. She has books on the way from Fly on the Wall, Twist in Time, Rhythm & Bones, Hedgehog and Cephalo. Poetry Editor Anti-Heroin Chic & Animal Heart Press. Let’s be kind and love one another. @ehoranpoet & ehoranpoet.com