Tracy Erin Finnerty

I'm trying to remember the Palomino poster of my youth since
you have pulled up the tents & wandered out of view-
past the dusty horizon of our marriage bed or
the fact my mother's sterling had gone soft in our hands.

Being left at the altar is as insulting as
animals in clothing or getting a cold in summer-
What do they say? Give a monkey a typewriter¦
We have been upright this long & still can't get love right.

I swallow my new freedom like a sword. Must find
beauty in miniscule things: spider escapes tissue; a left behind
Playboy bunny gnaws through a string of faux pearls.
Please put a mirror in my cage so I'm not lonely.

What do I doodle now you're gone? Who will win me goldfish?
When the fall begins a tightrope walker does not pray to live.
I should pick my heart off the floor, wash it over the teeny
sink of the port-o-lav like a good piece of meat.

Kiss me up to God & tell all the kiddies
in goldfish heaven there is peace & calm.

Tracey Erin Finnerty, 31, recently un-engaged, antiques dealer w/MFA in Writing from VT College. Who's grave is it that reads JUST SAY THAT I WAS HERE & SOME OF IT WAS LOVE?



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