Here's a wonderful book by my friend and fellow poet, Susan Vespoli:

 

From the hilarious cover art through all the poems, this book is quite a ride. Susan Vespoli, with determined frankness and unrepentant humor, showcases modern love, loss and their aftermaths. She writes, when the relationship ends, that she "tore off our bed sheets and bought a pink set" and "Goodwill clothes [he] liked and kept the ones [he] didn't." By the end of Cactus as Bad Boy, you'll be rooting for her.

 

Susan Vespoli

Here's a poem from the book: 

Sea Otters

Sea otters hold hands while they're sleeping

so they don't drift away from each other,

lying on their backs, they float through night

like kayaks rafted together by tow ropes,

lulled by the cradling rock of waves that roll

from flat to round to pointy peaks of foam.

And that's what I miss the most.

Lying on my back with you dozing beside me,

your hand draped over my heart like a gentle tent,

my fingers laced through yours in a sort of truce,

because when we slept no one had to be right.