Candace Rex

Ghazal Face

 

You stink like the chicken coop in my neighbor’s yard, that’s why. 

You are the cyano slime that clings to the bottom of a barge, that’s why. 

 

A glass necklace.  A green door.  A child’s harmonica.  

A book of poems sitting unopened on the floor—that’s why. 

 

You’re one of those marauders cruising the sea for treasure.  

You weak link, you fraud.  You’re a cog, a lever, that’s why.

 

I couldn’t care less about your new chin piercing.  What a stud.

Swallow your own rain.  You’re just a hearse holding air, a dud.  That’s why. 

  

 

Red, bitter liquid poured from your heart when I ate you. 

You tasted like lies drowned in tartar sauce from a drive-through, that’s why.

 

You loser, you letter.  Go write yourself across the sky. 

 

You play sick every hour & I’ve lost my mind again on the 405, that’s why.  

 

 

I don’t want you to want what I want when I want it. 

Dark-eyed guzzler, you’re a broken haunt.  That’s why.  

 

 

Hurry now, pull the dress up to your chin and zip it.  

You wrapped your arms around my ribs and fixed it, that’s why. 

 

I told you the truth, who cares?  I left my eyes by your bedside. 

Stroked my tongue until your drawers filled up with lies, that’s why.  

 

 

Like you even noticed, marble-heart.  You maiden, you saint.  

Give me a coin for my slot.  Nothing taken, nothing gained—that’s why.  

 

 

Candace Rex lives and works in Seattle, WA.  Rex is a writer, musician and social justice advocate.   Currently an MFA student at Antioch University in LA, her work is forthcoming.