garden party

all the good ladies
lie down in the grass

everyone's skin smells of bread

the boys are all barely awake
they look sick and are too warm
they hop over you and want to get away
get away!

we've stopped having fun.
my eyes feel creaky.
That can only mean I've been weeping again,
and here I am, not even knowing

you think you're tired, mr. so and so?
oh no, stop right there
think about me and how none of my objects work
all of my sisters resting
all of my resting suitors
all of my sisters resisting
all of these -
these goddamned beautiful birch trees
and that great fucking lake