Death of the Ladies’ Man
You were in the business of hurting
others the most.
Blister stains in pointed shoes,
a moon of pink
around the shower drain.
You knew a woman
in so many languages.
And I am married
to my gray hairs.
And you were married
to strings.
Her lipstick singes desperate.
Your fake teeth sing.
I really want someone.
No takers, just under
takers at your feet.
The last meal was a mirror.
I see you
in every hotel between
here and her.
The rutted sun setting
in your gut.
I hope that is how I go.
Doing the undoing.
Panorama with Loneliness and Future
You can with both arms
but they never tell you that part.
Like a fog upon the face.
Made of something smaller
& deep until
it’s just nobody.
A region of skin
& its doors
& windows.
One nature as another.
Hurts & turns on radios & blenders.
It’s the meter of belonging.
–
Hannah Cohen received her MFA from Queens University of Charlotte. She co-edits Cotton Xenomorph and is a contributing editor for Platypus Press. She is the author of Bad Anatomy (Glass Poetry Press, 2018). Recent and forthcoming publications include Noble/Gas Qtrly, Glass, Calamus Journal, Cease, Cows, Yes Poetry, Gravel, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and elsewhere.
Lead image: “Lipsticks” (via Flickr user Open Grid Scheduler/Grid Engine)