Miss
Much as I’ve
failed, for all
I lack, alone as I
may look without
the phone I left
home, bring me
more wine, nice
man, and please
don’t call
me that.
* * *
Jilt
Juliet, Jillian,
harlot Jill,
in French jillet,
the flirt, unfeeling,
felt, who flung her
don into the dirt,
having fanned
his flame,
the abrupt slut
who ended it.
* * *
Warp
Your limber twist,
your cocky slalom,
swivel, pivot, pirouette,
how did they turn
into a skewed shuffle
across a crooked room?
In this humidity,
the door won’t close.
You stoop to tie
huge shoes.