Bad, Bad girl with the Homesick Blues
Oh sad face
I've suckled you too long,

too long spent
in typos, in tapestries,

in manifestos, notes to nonsense,
inter-personal memorandums,

oh sad face
with a boy pulling you up

from the corner of the bed, not
a single square inch of this

bedroom he has not touched me in,
but the window was open

all night in December, before
her grandfather died, and the cat

sat at the sill, the boy slept on
while the girl melted into oblivion,

and the house was homesick for her,
the house knew what she had done,

the house was the kettle calling
the bedroom black,

the girl was the afterthought,
the aftertaste of coffee and cigarettes,

a quick shower, she had her shirt off
and the tv was neon sunshine in

an otherwise night ridden room,
the dog followed her around the tiny

hallways, it clung to the idea of her,
like the boy, locked in the bathroom

and he was so silent, so unfocused,
so malleable, like clay, like the hothouse

walls melting in the tepid fragility of law
and love, she once thought love was

an emotion, not just a word,
oh sad face

I have surrendered,
I have come home encumbered

and afraid. Bad little girl,
the hurricane of her actions all awhirl.