Living in Drought
Can Make You Crazy
Dreams of rain tap you awake
false patter on window glass
dry nights you remember—
lightning’s thrill crack and flash
the humid build up
breaking wet
the musical pound on tin roof
first drops
spread fat and warm
nights in the city
between parties
pavement’s shine
rain streamed face
strychnine in your gut
headlights catch you
blurry and delicious
that one storm
last year
flooded the subway
soaked your clothes
the shrink called
told you turn back
there’s no electricity
no elevators
nothing but downpour
and dark windows ahead
you standing on Market Street
drenched and laughing.
•
Lonely and Lovely
are Almost Spelled The Same
I did not die
when Ant Wiley dragged me up the stone wall
dangling over the bay
Police lights bathed me
in relief of his relentless
fists and feet
I was not shot by cops
when guns were pointed
at my head
I did hide in my room
a lot
still do, huddled here now
With the twitching dog, the computer,
and my stomach ache
I’m lonely
and I want to eat Xanax
and cereal
Never overdosed
but wanted out
many times
Never cut
having too many scars
already
Begged to have my hair pulled
my face smashed into the head board
that escape is short lived
I went to the movies tonight
with a guy from a bar
just to do it. just because I’m lonely
or something
His desperation
was rubbing on me, giving me
indigestion
He wanted to show me off
he wanted to take me to the mall, to eat,
to his bar
I wanted to get out
couldn’t get home fast enough
all that need reminded me
of my own
How it feels to really like someone
and how these months I relearned what it’s like
to like no one
to look into the future
and see nothing
like I did
Back when guys like Ant Wiley
beat the shit out of me
and I still wanted a boyfriend
To pick me up after work
eat chicken fried steak at Denny’s
drink gin and juice in the car
with someone
Cause he made me laugh
and got that look in his eye when he came
that glazed dazed look that made me feel
some kind of way
Numb like this, I miss feeling
some kind of way
Actually it was the worst reminder
that I have not grown up
at all
That I will obsessively text
where I once
paged
That I will sit in my room
and cry for a very long time
broken and looping
no power button shut off
love lives only in pages and songs
so I’m thinking about buying cassettes tapes again
stacking them high with the books on the shelves
surrounding me, and the shivering dog
late into the cold night
There is moon
and there is me
and
I did not die.
•
Down with Regret
roots are branches upside down
fear steals breath at night
full moon floods the shower through skylight
the yard a shining quiet thief
two salmon colored roses fight the drought
I roll over tight into myself
don’t touch me language my back
every hair on razor alert
a dangerous pet who loves petting
but will bite your hand off and your tongue don’t even think about it
barnacle of habit I cling to mattress
remember what runaway ex said space creates desire
take a hike already and the comforter
vertical stripe not to the side
your bed making makes me feel boxed in
my crimes require multiple partners
when you texted your son he said he was dying
made up a disease, said that’s what it would take for you to call
I call you clueless would rather not call you at all
next door the empty lot resplendent in trash
my tree a stump outside the window
I tell myself it doesn’t bother me barren
of black bags and balls gone missing
everyday it breaks my heart its lack of green
alien vines that root when they touch the ground
once filled with bird scream screened us
from neighbors smoking on their porch
curious cloud facing the guestroom
guard dogs on garage roofs threaten our every move
now naked these un-kept fences sag
inside with me where I never really wanted you
my big mouth said otherwise on the rebound
the rebound got me down
one body for another has never worked well
I’ve grown I say changed but its a younger model
I’ve Benjamin Buttoned my old self down I’ll miss now
How I’ll dust my feathers off this time
agonize sleepless moon night and wonder
shaking pills ziplock to palm
whoever said drugs won’t solve the problem
never had a pill lady with good Xanax
This concludes our broadcast: good night and good riddance.
•
Cassandra Dallett lives in Oakland, CA. Cassandra is a two-time Pushcart nominee and Literary Death Match winner. She has been published online and in many print magazines, such as Slip Stream, Sparkle and Blink, Chiron Review, Stone Boat Review, and Great Weather For Media and reads often around the San Francisco Bay Area. A full-length book of poetry Wet Reckless was released on Manic D Press May 2014. In 2015 she authored Bad Sandy (Lucky Bastard Press), Pearl Tongue (Be About It Press), The Water Wars (Pedestrian Poets Series), On Sunday, A Finch (Nomadic Press) which was nominated for a California Book Award, and most recently Armadillo Heart (Paper Press) with MK Chavez.