Parts of the tongue by Jane Gibian

A predilection for stone fruit
sees a trail of peach
and plum stones in his shadow
You had traced him down
this discreet path to where
his casual touch
was six light insect
feet on your forearm

In the magazine you read about
the ten sexiest women
for April; they all live
in suburbs beginning with W
and wear impossible shoes

You hunt for modern equivalents
of One hundred ways with mince
and watch his hand become
refined under its wedding ring,
the fingers longer and nails less bitten

He coaxes your shoulders straight,
uncurling them with firm hands

but you were merely bent over
with laughter
Now your tongue forks into four:
one part for being good-natured
one for lamentation
the third part of irony
and the last for an imaginary language

You move to a newly-invented
suburb beginning with X
where you will use the four parts
of the tongue with equilibrium


You do by Aimee Mann

You stay the night at his house

with no ride to work

and I’m the one who tells you

he’s another jerk

but you’re the one who can succeed

you’ve only got to prove your need–

and you do

you really do

The sex you’re trading up for

what you hope is love

is just another thing that

he’ll be careless of

but though there are caveats galore

you’ve only got to love him more–

and you do

you really do

even when it’s all too clear

You write a little note that

you leave on the bed

and spend some time dissecting

every word he said

and if he seemed a little strange

well, baby–anyone can change

and you do

you do

you really do