oceans and sleeping, and sleeping in oceans, and other things like that

by amy lipman

I.

I’ll not be perfect
I promise my best
When it’s time for you to lose your first love
When you realize you don’t look how you want
When you are at home in an empty house

And I thought I would marry him
He would have been gone all the time

II.

I’ll not compare myself to a silhouette
An unused boat
I escaped from the dollhouse
No faith in the map I was given
Paper-thin inheritance is shredded
I wasn’t born to be a hidden document

III.

We would have slept
As waves rolling in
I wasn’t looking for happiness
I was searching for light

IV.

You’re the dirt under my fingernails
I cradle under the sink

I held you when you offered touch
You left grounds you’ve walked inside of me
I want to make you home

V.

I was a dancer
A sexless top
Spinning faster than anyone expected

I was chaste when my legs could stretch furthest
And a mistress before I could speak

VI.

My love affair with the dark
Sterilized my remains
Kept me from illumination
Of memories I seize up arms
And am instructed on just how
It's all right to sleep tonight

VII.

Men fear the earth
And the world dries up

VIII.

I’ve never met someone so alive
That they didn’t use punctuation

VIV.

Rip a hole to rain our treasure
We are empty piñatas
Her back is turned, he’s stopped promising
My father is the man who made me believe that boys would be better

X.

All of my mistakes
Are sleeping with their nurse

XI.

I am an ocean of vacant ships
Flood me now
Before I dry up
I came to you as a house-warming gift
Now I am uninhabited

XII.

Baby, don’t you grow up disappointed
For your lack of breasts at dawn
The man beside you is a satiated son
And you’re the chosen one to set