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Miss

 

Much as I’ve

failed, for all

 

I lack, alone as I

may look without

 

the phone I left

home, bring me

 

more wine, nice

man, and please

 

don’t call

me that.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jilt

 

Juliet, Jillian,

harlot Jill,

 

in French jillet,

the flirt, unfeeling,

 

felt, who flung her

don into the dirt,

 

having fanned

his flame,

 

the abrupt slut

who ended it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Warp

 

Your limber twist,

your cocky slalom,

 

swivel, pivot, pirouette,

how did they turn

 

into a skewed shuffle

across a crooked room?

 

In this humidity,

the door won’t close.

 

You stoop to tie

huge shoes.