There Will be Pomo

This is how you end up titling on the edge of your bathtub late at night
Smoking with one hand, a razor blade in the other
Blade stares at your feminist leg
You just missed the feeling of war and the scene
Needs dressing, you light a candle for ambiance and you think about
The sexual revolution and women looking at their vaginas in
The mirror you do this all the time and don't feel revolutionized at all

They were learning to love their vaginas
And to understand them and here
The speaker implies that the two are mutually exclusive you look at

Scars on your legs nobody knows your legs like you do and you just
After griping and wearing stockings and having to make up stories when people ask you what happened to your legs
Holy fuck speaker of the poem will you ever quit drinking you just
Like the idea of permanence now or actually
Loyalty it's rare and it's hard

To come by after work to feel slow again and to be conscious of your body you touch the place
Where your ribcage used to be you have tried so many things on
Your body your temple you think of Indiana Jones and doom you begin making

A list of things to do so that you don't do the thing
You could paint if you had canvas you could work
On being beautiful but that would require the thing
Because solitude and it's just a burning
That you missed your body was never a temple but an extended metaphor for a perpetual emptiness
You were in love with seeing your bones because you were in love with the architecture and the structure of things here
The speaker of the poem is trying to see how much bullshit she can
Get away with this

Is how you end up naked and googling
Are there calories in promethazine
What wine goes best with codeine and the speaker of the poem is trying not to rhyme and trying to excuse the habit of
Oh I once upon a time had a horrible cough and it's back and oh
I have a headache yeah
Right it's a really bad headache and thank you for the
Oh I just felt so full I was just so
Full a body is a body is a body is a body when you close your eyes
You are letting him you hang
Limp on a crucifix no sound comes out of your sleepy mouth your breathe gone from lashings
Out of your stomach comes the only noise you can make
That internal organ yelling at least
Your mouth salivates and you work on that list