Jesusfuck, but I n ever k new what hat to wear to be d!
Every other day was a Lei Day, regular as a pow er out age.
St icks ‘n stones, y our words r ousted me
from our home with a vengeance,
but no way, no t fr om my innerhearthome
where, ensconced I now extempofeminize
with my sex tant turned to ward safe harbor.
(Remember, not drowning, waving!)
No more ban on t his un said, un sung th ought
I had & did or didn’t say; or that I sinning s un g.
It was liturgically re moved!
                                        Today, I’m taking an epic
walk around the Hotel Del Coronado, sun-sonneteering,
head floral-crowned with grief: all his goings graces.
My métier a nevermorehappyeveraftering racket.

Coco Owen lives in Los Angeles and has published two chapbooks, Scar let Woe Man (Tammy) and Dress Forms (dancing girl press). Her poems appeared in the Antioch Review, 1913: A Journal of Forms, CutBank, The Journal and The Feminist Wire, among other venues. She also serves on the board of Les Figues Press, and you can see more of her work at www.cocoowenphd.com.