PRINCESS

in the book the woman wants to be alone and is 
misunderstood and understood for that
but she goes to spin class and wears heels with jeans and tbh 
i was never taught, 
who is?

nonnie had the things i thought 
a woman was supposed to
a closet just for her clothes and mauve wallpaper bathroom
and compacts in her pocketbook and a glasses chain and 
letterhead and scratched up plastic pitchers for juice concentrate 
and oiled legs and bulbous jewelry more yellow
than gold 

2 summers ago i red great cosmic mother in a bikini 
tailored to my star chart, things i do when i’m sick of 
what and who i’m working with 

is that what a princess is?

i remember telling one mother and one future mother how you 
didn't want to have kids with me, you had enough love in your life 
or something, and they were like, fuck that,
and also maybe it was easier to blame you than me 
for not having what 
i wanted

everyone makes having the hard thing sound so easy. 
it just happened. it’s so much work. 
it just happens. it’s so much 
work. 

feels illegal to even write. but cringe is the cop in your head,
or something

princesses under rocks, fostering babies
with the worms

you said you liked that kind of boy-short underwear because
it was the kind a hot wife might wear
making breakfast in the sticky cabin 
poem kitchen 

i hate you. jennifer lawrence says it’s “odd”
to talk about the childless that way.

so odd to “want” a kid, a wife, 
boy-short underwear 

is that what being a princess is? 

the thing about playing dream girl is you let yourself 
want without catching princess
fever

you are just dreaming, and dreaming is like drinking 
water, fills up and moves 
through

birthday party where we slept in a tent set up indoors and talked about 
our wedding dresses. someone smart with herbal essences hair said “simple” 
and we all got in line, yes. simple. silk. off-white? silk. low back. 

my self portrait was red circle head on white trunk body
bursting with radioactive blue. tried to shimmy the silk tube over the trunk
without snags. yes. spaghetti straps, the kind that roll beneath your fingers
like whisper ocean vines. 

is that what lying is?

my dream girl’s grandmother buys me gifts i would not have chosen,
but come to choose. 

but must i choose between grown and growing?
hurry through the kitchen to try to find. debate covering the half eaten fruit.
covered, it is protected. uncovered, set out next to limes
it is a message. eat these eat us
together, at once.