he sleeps twisted inside of me
hands tight on my bruised lungs
if I had a voice
with him
it would slice my own tongue
and when he moves to awake
his easy turn on my hand
burns through everything I know
one slow thrust into my dignity
and I split in two
and I don’t know
which one is me
Up north, near borders and manure,
a woman lives with a Texas LongHorn.
She grows red potatoes and
asparagus in spring water.
She nudged her children
with long pitchforks, for all the years
that she could.
Poking,
prodding,
until ladybugs and snake skin
wrapped her
thick construction sick.
I had a son. White ash hair,
marble blue sight.
The woman’s Ladybug’s tampered him.
So, he trampled them!
One after another.
Crunch. Crunch.
Like good mother’s do, I told him “NO!”
He cried.
I sneezed,
and when I did, my poor soul
escaped.
No woman blessed me.
No child cried.
But, that woman! That woman with her potatoes,
and her asparagus,
and her giant Texas LongHorn
grew beastly horns that
poked,
that prodded,
sharper than pitchforks.
My mouth broils as he Ogre’s around
our apartment. Things,
things,
little things,
severely minuscule things
are everywhere,
out of place,
unclean.
His small feet stomp inflammation
into our feeble floors.
His small hands run away from
his body
to find me,
to strangle me!
I watch from underneath
couch cushions, where crumbs of
yesterday lay sullen until
they are found out later
and
sucked away by his mean vacuum cleaner.
He calls,
he calls me out…
angry laughter speeds from his
black callousness to
my eardrums. I hear them explode.
He stomps with plague.
He stomps to me. Ripping me from
haven, his touch ignites my mouth
filled with fire juice
and
all I can do is spit!
A filthy witch lived inside me when
I spent too much time
growing.
She eliminated the healthy bugs
that sewed my insides nicely,
that watered my battle
and push forward flowers.
I wanted to learn how to fish
with a stick. I wanted
to pick protein out
of fish scales, but
the witch said
she had an allergy. She took my stick
and hid it.
I miss my bugs. The healthy ones.
They helped me stay clean.
I cannot breathe
properly
on my own.
I grew with the witch for years,
while she sang
death march hymns. I learned the
words
and ate them, instead of the fish.
When it came time for gutting and
cleaning, I painted
my own limbs with scales
and
fished with knife sticks for protein.
I spent too much time growing
with this rapacious
witch. Her sharp teeth chewed
my affections to analgesic cream
that spread throughout me, burying
everything but
the enchantress and her
music.
She lived in a junk ocean
swimming
in the dark waters
of nostalgia
She gave birth to four babies
two in the spring
two in the summer
She tied
all four of them to Her gills
they were heavy
they pulled and tugged
on Her
making Her instinctual efforts
tedious
She never let a tide change
without
reminding
the
four of their weight
of Her struggle
still
She carried them
dragged them through
Her muck
strung them along
deep
in the dark
junk ocean
the tides changed
over and over
eventually
the four
grew gills of their own
weight
swimming muscles
and She was forced to untie them
still
reminding them of their weight
of Her struggles
the four stayed near
Her
eager to help
to relieve Her
of the strain
they had caused
but no service
could mend the damage
done to Her
strained
tired
gills
the four
swam around the
shameful waters
drowning in moral
conditions
as the weight She
had been burdened with
slowly
slowly
grew in the gross waters
latching on
to the strong
untouched
gills
of the four
weighing them
down
down
down
deeper
into the dark
junk ocean
where
they surrendered in Her
waste
White dress
white cake
white people
surrender to social
“norms”
“norms” slither like rotten
worms through
white cake
creating tunnels to
loveless
bites of
artificial sugar
my sister, “the prude”
stands with me, “the slut”
introduced
shake heads at
shake hands with
“your new dad”
His white body stands
atop the white
cake
next to the white dressed
Monster
her claws sunk deep into
his spine
vows were stolen from
Once Upon A Time
a normal dance
a normal kiss
family glides in
out
Congratulations!
An artificial prude
a drunken slut
remain –
photographer is
late
a successful wedding night
later
white
man atop the cake
is stripped of a healthy spine –
collapses under
a perverse
white Monster,
his wife
maggiemaeijustsaythis 