Rebecca Connors


No one wants me here, & yet I can’t stop coming. This is me
in grade school, in high school. I am exposed heart, raw

& craving. What people see, inside of me, such vulnerability
is vulgar. In college, I am endless ringing, please-call-me-back

voicemails. What did I know of caller id? Red-cheeked *69.
What did I know of the danger of inserting myself

into the pack? After so much wanting, I am easy-pickings.
At the bars, one kiss at the end of the night?

I would pity me now, would want to go back & disconnect
the phone. But it’s too late to stop me.

Persistent as sap, determined that this time with this person,
it will work. Like that one night, he & I were drunk 

on new-found interest & then I wake up in his bed
to PJ Harvey screaming on the stereo. He storms around

the room, saying he feels my walls closing in on him.
But how can he be sure? Maybe he knew what he was in for

from the scent of my skin, from how I fit just right,
from how I stare too brightly for any beginning.


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