Ode to Chlamydia



crotch be itchin’ like an army of fire ants. like my tampons’ soaked in honey, stickystickysticky, like bees are far from extinction. oh, you clumsy vibration, musta tripped off someone’s zipper the last time i let a man think he knew how i liked it. & when that man sends me a text message to proclaim your arrival, i know he’s just a sheep in the wake of your tremble. i know he’s just a stork come to bless the porch of my temple. i know he don’t know nothin’ of the dark of me deepdeepdeep, how i mined through lovers beds lookin’ for anything other than you. how i kept finding everything but myself. how through the broken moans, the silent cries clawin’ out my throat, the flannel sheets i bleached with my sweat, i knew it wouldn’t be long till you came buzzin’ the doorbell of this delicate grief. & what a gift it is you brought me – the quiet morning weep, the garbage bags of panties, the funeral on my cervix welcomed by a chalky white pill, the cremation of love letters i wrote to a man who does not love me anymore. he does not love me anymore & i will not find him on the cold side of a stranger’s pillow though, i might find you. & i might remember my body, how fragile it is softsoftsoft no matter how many times it dresses up            like a fist.