About a Year
the leaves all drop
at once
with the rain
last evening
the transit to work
looked like
I shaved the hair
from my arms
the hair from
outside my limbs
all my hair
for the weather’s sake.
He would like that
He would like to play the janitor
keep all my body hair
sealed in a side closet.
He would like to run his mop
over my wet legs.
He would like to take all my pubic hair
and dump it down the drain.
I can regret the shedding
but trees change all the same
I have thoughts with roses on them
my walls have posters too.
and in the corner of my room
there are succulents
freezing on a window sill
somehow still alive
and I do not radiate
for the cacti’s sake
Mango Fibers
In the shower
I cover my eyes
with my hands
picture whatever
it is from
the outside.
I cover my eyes
with my hands
let the steam
cover my else,
I picture something
of a less-dense
volume rising
then expanding
behind me
overwhelming
like what
I think
you can do
I still say
thank you
with your hand
up my ass
and aren’t you glad
I took a shower
today, putting
soap on my tits
putting soap
between my thighs
I floss and
forget about
the mango fibers
stuck between
my teeth
Melissa Jones studies words in the Twin Cities. She works in a museum and reads for Gigantic Sequins Literary Journal. You can find her bad twitter here.