Two by Amy Pajewski


You’re no longer my lover
not since you twisted
that speculum inside me,
to examine my connective
tissue.  Revision: fuck.

Watch the blood and
filaments and flipper-
feet expand then
contract when untimely
ripp’d.  Black specks.
bulbous brain cavity

swimming in an
air-less bucket,
seeing and not
seen in the
amniotic fluid
within the
bubblegum
sphere.




you walked out
this morning.  Pacing
as you turned
your panties inside-
out.  Slid one hole
up your leg,
then the other.
Cloudy silhouette,
still now – you
look at me.
Are you
crying?

When our
eyes meet, this time-
I feel
nothing.
And I didn’t
even get
to tell you, how
pretty your dress
looks, when
you’re on
your knees,
disinfected.


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