Haiku for Adulthood #37-#42

It was in your bed

I finally grasped the

value of destruction.


To write about one’s

self is to go from subject

to object, and back.


What I loved about

you was—perversely—all

I despised in myself.


You never called it

making love—I was only

yours for the taking.


I want men to perceive

me as threatening—

not just a distraction.


And here’s a non-serious one, for posterity.

Things that always amuse

me: Men on scooters,

“special sauce,” marmosets.




Leave a Reply