Coming in from
a lazy summer smoke
To a bookcase almost empty
boxes with just a little more space
And Tori crying
sometimes I hear my name
And today I think
she stole poems from my heart
before they happened
Oh Tori, I know your Jupiter
That Archer with his arrows
A Cupid with barbed and toxic projectiles
It is coming home from
His Arms His Kisses His Antics
To a bed unmade
From last night’s one night stand
Because I am aching for Jupiter
Rubbing the cramp with virgin’s blood
Oh Jupiter, I am lost
I have a long and twisted history of relationships with other addicts and alcoholics.
I got my first drunk-call at 15. I didn’t know it then but I now wonder if taking that call wasn’t my first step toward insanity.
But that isn’t the subject of this poem.
“Boys for Pele” was my first Tori CD. I think I got it around the same time.
I learned to use mythology as a lens for life from Tori. It became my code for names I could not use, a way to preserve the sacred space of a relationship but still write about it honestly. Thus Jupiter is a Sagittarius I was in love with way back when. I was seventeen when we first got together.
I really don’t know what to say about this poem. It’s a terrible poem and I don’t know why I flagged it to post. Let’s just file this under “cautionary tales-do as I say and not as I did.” All I can really say is that the insanity inside that relationship was only surpassed by my own insanity in reaction to it. Normal people don’t punish themselves when someone hurts them. But I’d been in training for that roll a few years by that time and had forgotten.