Only one will win
Whether from loss of will
Or loss of wit
I’ll confront myself in the field
No city palm can bear the callus,
Nor country wrist lay down the spade;
I'm stuck on the intersection of
Grinding teeth and stomach acid
And I've had nightmares of
Receding tail lights glowing red in the dark
To the sound of syncopated moans it suddenly dawned
on me that dryer lint removal was long overdue,
rather like my public library books on gardening for beginners
and Artaud's early essays (translated, naturally).
He slammed the door on me.
I walked back to my vehicle, endorsing the letter with R E F U S E D near the return-address.
He opened the door and yelled: “Come back, I want it!”
and so I gave it to him
I tried to fold it into a note too shameful to read.
I tried to swallow myself like a pill indigestible
They said I wasn’t one of them
Nicknamed me, “Miss wannabe white girl, Miss proper and prim”
I couldn’t change my skin nor my love to learn
A choice impossible to make
my Vagina is a scripture
written in Times New Roman
reddened in holy voice
But we were broke, not poor
Syrup sandwiches using white bread, ramen or whatever’s there
Watching taped rerun, reciting words acting as if we truly compare
Asking them who gets toons after the tax holiday
where I dreamed I was an arsonist.
Glenda asks if I have any band aids.
She cut herself with a manila folder. I envy her.
It’s Friday at 2:30 pm, the lady in the office
How the disappearance of hands
fills her with gremlin croaks—
How fingers whispering over flowers
So he let it seep deep, deep down
No registration for the gun passed down
through stitched lips as if from lost and found
Permeating the veins of his deep, deep brown
rocking and stroking and lulling with whispers.
She stiffens and stretches away from my flesh,
the screaming sears stings my ears no less than your breathing.
it’s not all men, no,
but it’s enough.
see themselves for just a glimpse
in the shining mirror of your life
view through a crack their own creation
i ran away from the girl i knew
as paint poured over my head
black and white paint
grey and charcoal paint
Then, the harbor. Then the
merchant ships, the clamor of