~
BARE
I hate you.
I eich-aye-tee-ee hate you. Full stop.
I hate: to bear thoughts of your bare
hands gripping other ivory thighs and hate aching
to grind you into coffee grounds and hate
the bellyache
of aching
for you.
I hate: being betrayed
by your betrayal
and feeling
my chordae tendineae
fraying—
to be subjected to this doom
of decay.
Let’s change the subject.
Like our cracked plates,
my breastbone cracks
at the thought of your arching
hand on her breast.
Like a sore
burning arch, you burn
me, and when I say
I hate you,
I hope you know
I mean: you skinned me
to bone and broke my trust, and I el-oh-vee-ee
love you
and hate that
that is what my skin
is made of.
~
Despy Boutris‘s work is published or forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Southern Indiana Review, Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, The Adroit Journal, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston, works as Assistant Poetry Editor for Gulf Coast, and serves as Editor-in-Chief of The West Review.