Bffs [Ain’t They a Bitch] by Yvonne Amey

I wish I had understood loneliness better,

the pitch-black joy of it.

I wish I had known your arms were carrying

something too heavy for you to wave goodbye.

Hope is in the last line of cocaine before you drive

to the ER asking for more help than you can give yourself.

There are worse things than being shot at.

[I want to thank Wanda Coleman for not being dead yet]

Regret is wishing you’d never met most of the people in your life.

I wish we hadn’t shared the moon.

I wish I wouldn’t have worn another stripper’s thong.

I wish I believed in forgiveness, even for the dead.

I wish all our boyfriends had had more light living in them.

I wish they hadn’t looked like Mack trucks driving over

fresh bodies unhinge my jawbone and I will tell you

how embers forget to glow.

When you left a message I thought you said whore are you!

but you said you said where are you?

I wish your Honda hadn’t of dove into an ice lake.

[I keep finding bits of you in my poems]

In autumn I’ll rake up all your  memories and burn them

in front of the neighborhood mouths open like graves

swallowing little people pills which is a sexier image

than this mess this mess the world has created

for thirty years you’ve crept into my dreams yet

I still never want to see you again.

 

 

Yvonne has an MFA in poetry from the University of Central Florida.  Her poems have appeared in Vine Leaves Journal50Gs, Bending Genres, and elsewhere.  She lives and teaches college English in Central Florida.

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