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54

She fussed over the spread all morning Patterned the blanket to match the doilies and cloth handkerchiefs  Polished the silver cheese tray and knives  She picked the perfect casserole dish Fresh green beans from the garden Ripe cherry tomatoes from the vine Edna closed the wicker basket  And fastened the bows tight  She then focused on her children   Zipping and buzzing around the house – the girls in polka dot cotton summer dresses and loose curls. Charlie, her husband – debuting the polo shirt Edna starched and ironed earlier in the day  It was 6:30 pm With the sun beginning to set, Edna corralled her family toward the door One last glance over   Everyone and everything in place  The family sat about down the road waving to neighbors as they passed by  Mr. Roberts watering his lawn  Mrs. Thelma carrying a crumbled brown bag of groceries into her home  When they arrived, Charlie lay the plaid blanket across the stretch of...
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Earth Day

On this earth day here is an ode to all the things that didn’t go right To the vain ambitions  The ghastly blood-borne tantrums And the rage This is an ode to the fuck-ups. The fuck faces.  The petulant mouthbreathers   The uh…ohs… To the sloppy way I drank all the tequila  Stashed in that cupboard in New Mexico And drunk dailed my dead grandmother three times. Hoping. Hoping. Hoping.  And even emailed the Magician  The one who serrated my liver into forty-four  And to the Ring camera that caught discarnate limbs running out into a snowstorm at 3 am to dance.  This is an ode to the interview man that came on his Zoom Zoom  To tell me who I was  I wanted to release the middle bird And lace a necklace of profanities around his heart  But instead    I sat on my hands  As payment for being This Way  Very haughty  Very untamed.  This is an ode to the unanswered. To the unmanifested.  The ectop...
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Timeline shift

This feels like a slow fast strangulation.  Thimbles of the absurd. The unrepentant - unacceptable - blazing present of all that stands before us.  Our epithelial cells are revived only to be snuffed out again.  Each violation. A lesson in futility. A didactic in impotence.  I don’t know what I have hands for.  I don’t know. 
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Prime Days

I’ve been trying to place an order online all day.   Bubble wrap. Human size.   No shipping to Mexico.   Scroll down to the bottom of the page for a number. Give me the phone.   What is the code? 001.   Let me out. Let me call.   Ring. Ring. Ring.   On the line. Robot loop speak.   Numbers. My ears are ringing. Press 1. Press 2. Press 3. No number for bubble wrap. SOS.   Jam zero. Over. And over again. Get me to a voice. I need bubble wrap now.   Estimated wait time. 11 minutes. 10 fingers. I count down. Almost. Almost.          Ring. Ring. Connect.   "Hello, how may I help you?” “Ma’am, it’s an emergency.” “I’m leaking out. This world.”   Voice pause.   “I need 23 rolls of extra large bubble wrap shipped to Mexico right now.” “For what Ma’am?” may I ask. Press lips to receiver. Open mouth.   “2 arms, 2 legs, torso, head,                   ...
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You're home, hold on

I came to earth for flesh  To bend this spirit into body   To become the thing   To know the thing   To touch water   This is the mud packed with tiny sticks and berries in my hand bones   The soot, traveling up the cracks of my toes   The spring coils at the base of my neck and the glides of my hips   There are boulders  That will fall into the story of your life   Like rhythms  Meteorites smashing down   On precious land   Each weeping wound   Becomes a port hole for transformation   Pray down over those sacred spaces   Remake yourself   God   again   And  again
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Corona tion

Look at dis woman, ya'll.  Let us look.  She cover oh ye of stars. She wrap de sky in her bosom. Oh, she smell of grace.  Fresh soil under she nails. She mixed with silt from de mighty pyramids.  De light of Sirius over she head.  Let us crown her.  Kneel down.  Dis woman, ancient.  Old and new again.
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Nest

  today my grand mother  asked for my burial plot   next to   her daughter   my mo ther and i obliged having lived in her womb once in my mother’s tiny ovaries   like wooden Russian dolls   we are finding our way back home
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