Cassandra Dallett- Two Poems

To The Courier of Love

(A bike messenger on Valentines Day)

Today

I want to ride on your handlebars

climb into your messenger bag

hug your skull like your beanie hat

wish you’d whisper into me,

the radio clipped close to your mouth

above your scarred collarbone

after work I’ll slide into you

with the beers and the whiskey

hot in your gut.

Yesterday

I turned away your eager cold-air kiss

hated the flush of  your cheeks reddened at the bar

neglected your legs and your arms

tired from peddling hills and alleys

pushing your bike on and off the train

up and down the stairs

chain ticking as you coast the streets home.

I can’t promise I’ll be better

despite my wanting to…

I’m here uncombed in my old bathrobe and fuzzy slippers

looking like a crazy house wife

and I am crazy but I can’t be your wife

cause I can’t love you back

I blame unpaid bills, your premature ejaculations,

and the stubborn black

steeling up your eyes.

But

I’m afraid you know

I only love you

when you ride away.

Killing Love on February 14th

The Blade runner killed his girlfriend today.

He runs on two thin hooks,

propelling him forward

lean, muscular,

half-metal half-man.

A beautiful new kind of animal.

Today the police cover up

burning one of their own.

He was on a murderous rampage

American-hero style.

We all know a blaze of glory

is the only way to go.

And so,

you break up with me on Valentine’s Day.

For effect I smash the cake I made you

shatter pieces of chocolate and cheap white china

that’s my small blaze.

I thought I’d make the heart shaped pancakes

like I’d planned, break them in two

spread bloody strawberries into the crack.

And why I am I so mad?

We text the only words between us

use a series of door slams as periods.

Clearly,

This is my fault.

You tell me not to be so nice to you

so you can move on.

I don’t know how to not be nice

without maintaining anger

so I throw things and say Fuck a lot.

A predatory animal

I’m only willing to fight for you

after a break.

You tell me I hold all the cards.

I tell you I don’t want the cards,

Why can’t we just be?

Can’t you sit still

next to me

let me feel this thing

grow up through my rib bones

a green snaking stalk

it’s there when I miss you but I know that’s selfish

hold my hand, hear the leaves unfold inside me.

You fail to realize that I live with a surety that I will disappoint

I won’t know how to hit a ball with a paddle,

or how to drink in bars, I’m scared to ride bicycles,

and sometimes even to leave my house.

I wanted to learn,

to be human.

I throw the cards back to you

they only fall

softly to the floor .

 

Cassandra Dallett occupies Oakland, CA. Cassandra writes of a counter culture childhood in Vermont and her ongoing adolescence in the San Francisco Bay Area. She has published in Slip Stream, Sparkle and Blink, Hip Mama, Bleed Me A River, Criminal Class Review, Enizagam among many others. Look for links and chapbooks on cassandradallett.com