At the Ex-Boyfriend Cafe They Do Repentance Ragers
Line up and funnel air until they can’t speak, lie
blissfully quiet on the floor, fetal again,
tumultuous, wrapped in communal, platonic
love. It’s so freeing, one of them shouts into a stackable
set of measuring cups, to know my worth is unworthy
of measuring. In the booths lining the exterior they form
a protective barrier, write down the worst things
they think they’ve ever said on napkins embossed
with tiny dots in the shape of a flower.… Read the rest