Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.2.1

I have changed my email address
so now there is an excuse for you
to never write me and I will never

know whether you are ignoring me
or trying desperately to find me again
but the agony of it all will not be

lost on me and I will finally resort
to sedatives to help me through all
of the dreamless nights without you

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.2.0

I’m waiting for you to send me a
new friend request and I check every
half an hour not knowing which

button I will choose because we
are not ourselves anymore and I was
probably never myself even then

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.9

you wrote out the lines “If I knew
I’d still have you tomorrow/ then
I wouldn’t have to lie at all tonight”

above your doorway but we know
that is unlikely in so many ways
and in any case those were my lines

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.8

I know you think every poem
I’ve written since I turned
18 is for you but they’re really

for someone I pretend is Edna
St. Vincent Millay and a girl
with a nose-ring I met on a train

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.7

I uploaded a photo of a Scottish
singer that you don’t know onto
my pictures section of MySpace

hoping that your curiosity will
lead you to it and your jealousy
will assume her my girlfriend

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.6

I don’t leave comments on your
MySpace because I want you to
think I have more important things

to take care of than click on your
picture out of the hundreds that
I already don’t talk to anymore

Because I was not here yesterday, yesterdays poem is here today

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.5

I look at your list of friends
on MySpace and try to figure
out which ones you’ve slept with

and which ones you only smoked
pot with and let feel you up
while listening to Chet Baker

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.4

I read the comments your friends
leave for you on your MySpace page
and worry about what they mean

I don’t know what you did on
the 14th to warrant thanks but
I’m not surprised you’re “the best”

Short Poem for the PostSecret generation v.1.3

I did not recognize most of the people
in your newest pictures on MySpace
so I can only assume they are friends

you work with and are giving you bad
advice about music and television because
I know you enjoy Chopin more than techno

Short Poem for the PostSecret generation v.1.2

I saw you changed your MySpace picture
replacing the one of you holding your cat
with one of you and your boyfriend deep

in the woods of western Canada wearing
sweaters and I realized that this can only
be a message saying you’re cold without me

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation v.1.1

I never change my MySpace picture
because I am scared that you will
not see it and miss seeing me reversed

in a mirror thinking of what you will
think of seeing me with my hair
so different than you remember

Short Poem for the PostSecret Generation

I change my MySpace picture
twice a day and wonder if you
will notice and miss me more

and then I wonder if you will
read this poem and then go onto
MySpace and change your name

to "No I do not miss you more"
leaving me to be the only one
to know that you really do

She's Armed and She's Equal

so you've named all
of the things I love
then told me I will
never have any of them

not knowing what I love
most of all is to hear
you list things in your
slightly wavering accent

It Was Only A White Shirt I Wore Once, Honestly

it started with prayers
ended with your blood
on my face a pinch of vein

your name was French
short and easiest to say
walking over wet grass

Crikey, what horrible news to wake up to.

I re-read Priscilla Becker's first book, Internal West, and have found I enjoyed it much more this time than when I read it when it first came out. It is a very pleasant suprise when a book of poetry ages well after the first few years.