wretching

3/07 (this is one of the poems I'd been searching for, prompting my sudden discovery of all the poetry that had been lurking in my journals)

I lose a few hundred words between
the ballroom and the twentieth floor,
where I'll fling myself upon the hotel bed
in orgasmic exasperation,
flipping the lid of my journal open,
like the lid of a toilet,
trying to wretch up all the beautiful
past words that had leaked out
of me slowly, before I had
the chance to write them.