By Alyssandra Tobin
paul says careful with the benzos
& I’m like I think of you
whenever my therapist brings em up &
he’s like aww dunno if sweet’s the word
but it’s nice to be thought of
okay sure let everyone see my cute belly let
everyone know I covet some people I’m
supposed to hate paul’s stupid meth’d
out calls unbearable his empty bottles his days
& months wild-eyed & away
once we wore each others jeans
his tiny gold waist in my teen girl pants
now on the phone he says what’s up
ya fuckin guinea! he teaches me to play iron
man he gives me that ninth step apology that
making of meandering amends
me so scared of dying & him always
chest deep in it I sit so quietly a
very good dog in her dim little room
but he gives me cocky courage he
gives me warm love that boston street salt
kinda love that let’s never brawl kinda love
that I’ll kiss your dirt love that I’ll help you lie
to chicks love that mall parking lot love that
if I’m a blight you’re a blight kinda love
that noogie that cackle that snakebite that
augur that yeah I’ll call you on
your bullshit pastures if you call me when
my dumb pig jumps her sty off to somewhere
cleaner than both our loud green yards
Alyssandra Tobin was grown on Boston’s North Shore. Her chapbook, PUT EYES ON ME NOT LIKE A CURSE, is forthcoming from Quarterly West in 2022. Her work does or will appear in Poetry Northwest, Puerto del Sol, Four Way Review, and elsewhere.
New Ohio Review 