When I think about you in prison, so medicated
you couldn’t hold anything
in, I want to kick the guards’ teeth
in his professionalism, he seemed slightly nervous as though i might
keep asking him to touch me more and more places, but i didn’t, i too
remained professional, i said, ok thanks for looking i just wanted to make
sure, and i sat up, and he went back to his seat across the room
This building must be so tired. I am this building. I am a shit nightclub on the seafront with stained herringbone floors. [Beat.]
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A man on the patio is talking, in a way that seems like he is trying to reach an audience, about a phase in his life when he did push-ups every 15 minutes no matter where he was. Anywhere.
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He had a head of lettuce between his waxy hands. The place reeked of vinegar. My mother had been snoring strong in their bedroom since I walked in. Dad said she had a toothache.
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the whole house smells like fried butter, the walls are impregnated with the smell of butter, because the walls of this house absorb everything, the wife is making steak
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She rattled on enthusiastically about the pros and cons of ordering chocolate, vanilla, or swirl. When we selected swirl, she screamed that we’d made a great choice.
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That’s how people were these days most often, though not my mother. I heard her cooing even as they tickled off her flesh.
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Turning a crank
on the side of my head
& shooting diamonds
out of my eyes
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I watch your mouth
swallow the fruit
as I caress your head.
They give me the freedom to do this, this thing they call telling the truth. Summon me. I promise to do the chores.
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I am intruding—I am an intruder—how unsavory mother would find it. I open the drawer of a dark wood chest and I see them. A sea of pinks and whites, offwhites and yellows. Silk, lace, small blankets, warm serviettes.
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The cooks and local policemen came by to see her on her shifts. Her necklaces got tangled in the skin tags on her neck. She begged me to mash cysts on her back.
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