After traumatic endings, there are no fresh starts. No fresh mornings, no fresh facing of the day.

Your worldview changes, your face to the world changes, your facing yourself in the mirror in

memory in mind in the morning at midnight.

At night, I at least understand what triggers the triggers. Because at night, the body takes the

position of the horizon & the mind drops upon the body & burns like the setting sun. & the eyes,

washed clean, are helpless to memory. In the morning the world must be faced, you might see

him you might be reminded you might break down in the most inconvenient moments the most

public spaces.

The deliberate darkening of the eyes, lined thick and messy as the mind, is as good a defense


               violation prying being seen not seen

               as the steady sturdy posture of a tree.

For safety, turn yourself into a tree freeze trace a Cleopatra eye with shadow

& blend the wing for that smoky

                                                     sickening feeling.

                                   Turn yourself into a raccoon running

                                   round a tree a memory running round

                                   your eyes a woman running a woman


Blend rage blend pain blend shadows for a smoky eyed effect.

Smoke goes to beauty. You deserved it. You brought this on.

Drive him wild with mystery with resistance with no & no again &

            again & return

            to rage to bed now when the morning horizon has made distance from

the burn of the sun.

It’s hard to get that effect of a sophisticated eye

a straight sweep of liner

a steady application

                          with an unsteady hand.

On days like this every day actually I tend to shake too much

& the mascara smears.

I look like I’ve been crying I have been crying I am always crying

& I put on too much blusher, choose a color too red for my complexion.

             Red for rage. Red for unrested. Red for return & return again

             rage every night every morning.

I’m a raccoon a zombie a boxer w/two black

eyes shaking hands beating killing


Does the horizon shake & rage like this as the sun gets closer

             as the burning gets redder does a tree fight or flight

             does a raccoon go blind in the full memory of light

             full light of memory

does this makeup make me look smoky slutty sophisticated safe

soft weak or like a raccoon like a ghost a victim should I wash it off

can I not just wash it off make it all go away let me start over

let me it never happened pretend it never

happened. Pretend it looks good. Pretend.

Start again. Trace a clear line & tell. Keep

a steady hand sturdy mind surviving heart.