a curious lot,
proclaiming
the ins and outs and wheresowhy
of how and for
and with a sigh,
i open up for tea.
my monstres visit
me tonight
offer cake
berate the horse
and beat the plate.
open valves
and pry in jars
bespecked with pain
what’s mine is thars
and all for the amusing.
i do not wish to wear this
badge, the world wants
proclamation.
a breakdown
a rough show of sorts
of my indecencies
and all my stabs atrocities
at how the cookies crumble
the slant of light
the decadence
the horror of my drowning
the scratch of throat
and how it went
and where it goes
and what it knows
and if it wears
another’s clothes.
i shall not offer.
Beautiful green slimy sticky wet
Slow quiver goop, gets crusty when it’s dry
Tastes like something nobody ever
Tasted, it’s just not right but I like it.
I eats it. Put it in my mouth, slarsh it around it’s disgusting
Good.
I should not. They say
But I also like to put things in it like
Marshmallows rocks and marbles
And then it’s a stew.
Who knew.
Tasty green tastes like green sticky goo
Sliming wet crust stinks a lot
Too.
This is Frida Kahlo’s womb.
This salsa
This mole
This wooden chair, I sit
On the edge.
My companion discusses ideas rapidly
White Noise
Art Noise
Static
Noise
Nicaragua
Cuba. Cube-Ugh.
He wears a polka-dot shirt.
He is questions regarding
My earrings
My décolleté
The salsa
The mole
My Cajun grandmother
The wooden chair. He alternates in Spanish.
Bring us more salsa
This is Frida Kahlo’s womb, I say
pointing to the ceiling, the
portraits
the gourds, strung up
white Christmas lights. This is
your beer, he says.
Wiping the salsa from his brown chin he says
We must hurry or we’ll be late.
I eat my enchilada slowly
Letting the mole drip onto my lip.
My tongue
never tasted roux
This sweet.
I am the heart without bars, I to the street corners, I to the railways
I am the one without singing, without voice, I pull at myself
And tear. I tear out my hair, my eyebrows, my eyelashes
My eyes twitch to silence. I to the street corners, I to the bars
I am the one listless on stairways, listening to another’s listening
I luhv you, I hate you. I burn
I push myself out and
pullmyself
in.
I am called by a name, led by a dream. I another’s dreams, I to the dreams of
mothers, I to the dreams of daughters, I to my own self, I have no dreams.
I was given my dignity. I have no dignity.
I was given my beliefs. I have no beliefs. I was given my sins. I have no sins.
I was given my hopes. I have no hopes. I to the fears, I have no fears. I to the rooftops, I to the stories.
I have no stories.
I to the rafters. I to the floors. I roll on the floors and it gives me principles.
I have no principles. I listened to theirs and forgot my own.
I had not forgotten. I had never forgotten.
I am the bashful ignorance, the wrongful account of I to the moondreams, I to the
cars.
I lost my way on another’s highwayS. I never learnt. I believed in post-modern
logistics, the everyday nightmares handed down by my sisters. I to the brothels, I to the hearths.
I never learned to sew, I outrageous, I lustful, I traitor. I brokedown, I hostile
I beat back
A Button
I lost track. I got no purpose, no family, no home, no loyalty.
I to the body, I eat a baby. I hold it inside me. I demon, I Lucifer. I hold it all
inside me. I wanton, I mother. I father, I lovebones. I hateful, I fearful.
I was once your girl. I ain’t nobody’s girl. I erudite, I prayerbowl. I singing, I the
first thought. I’ve cut off my own
hair, I patient.
I listen Myself,
I peace now, I answers
I verify, I sorrow. I learn-ed, I wakeful. I choices, I rationalize, I truth behind
history. I makin’ mine
The sky was a color tonight
Stolen out of my mouth when I
Was born.
My cat crept onto the table
To see
What I was exclaiming for.
Twenty-seven years old and crying
for all this purple.