Aquamarine
panties
puckered
with secret
dawn-
pink seashells—oh I feel so
cartoonish-
ly
annoyed they're
on the bathroom floor.
2.
Blowing to sip (just a)
halfcup
of morning coffee,
I stop
conscientiously lending
a breath to
ask you
how your period is going.
*
The response—I'd call
sober,
but not at all
scientific.
3.
I feel vaguely satisfied
that a certain
but very nonspecific
goal has been achieved—
me having
said your name
so many times in a row now,
that it's done
meaning everything,
past meaning nothing,
and has officially
begun standing-in for
anything at all.