Dorothy McGinnis "After “Shut Up And Let Me Go” By The Ting Ting"

i screamed in a mall parking lot at 11 pm
when i fully realized you did not love me back.
this is not a made-up metaphor,
not a conceit i contrived to process The Hurt.
this is a thing that happened : i was changing a tire as i hollered
into the night the truth : you spoke romance as a means of consuming my Soft.
was i as honeyed as you dreamed? was it so easy
to rip out the seeds and slurp me into a 3 am as i trusted your hands?
(my childhood home always seemed like it was
working for the credit hours to become a mausoleum.
and here i am, trying to divide my limbs as

fruit peels for men who are living dead.)
do you think bodies rot in pieces? first a foot, then
probably a poetic detail, right? collarbone or eyelash, maybe?
did you find that first parts of your lungs fell into your pious palms?
did it take you by surprise to realize you had become more Abuse than Man?
did you wipe the bits of lung off on some girl’s abdomen, reassure her
that this was just another way you loved her as romantic as consumption?
and where is your heart today? in pieces between
the thighs of each rattlesnake girl you devoured and turned field mouse?
maybe underneath your father’s thick work boots? Or no,
within the pocket of your mother’s apron at the yard sale?
today my hand came up black from the dish water, like bubonic plague,
like you could not stand me clean and so you licked me dry.
today I am a cadaver of a woman,
today my rot smells of you.