My sex

My sex
needy and poor
traumatized
defiantly masturbating
golden but stale
unpure and ashamed
fucked
nicknamed
rerealized and shared
deified
Worshipped and whored
polished
adored

As you do

I wish to replicate
to do as you do
To hold in my hands
the future
To hold in my mind
 the past
To consolidate the stars
and rearrange the earth
With sweeping blows of might
and gentle breath
I am a fish in water
Escaping from the fearful beyond
to the certain corner of everyday

For Fathers

The things I think of:
The bearskin rug under the shiny grand piano
My grandpa's hands are deft and joyful
Not as shaky as he looked
Not weak like him

Fear
A girl in a nightgown
Trying to be good
Told she is loved
Told she is beautiful

Those weak hands were once strong
as a wooden plank in a basement
a concrete wall
children's voices
Trying to be good

You are too young
Strength where grasses were not watered
a field of wheat
Toughened by the scorching sun
A tanned hide
whipped too long to not rise up

KILL
Death has been sewn here
So follow through
Complete the process
Bring in the harvest
Just like your father

How did he watch
he kept a close eye
But how did he bury the skeletons
when the backyard was sold
Did he bring them along in the move
Brittle heirlooms

I held your wrists and yelled
“catch the snakes that you loosed!”
And you caught some
kept them in formaldehyde
like trophies
The house: busy with movement
the kids find your corners
break your jars
This was never your plan
You sought safety
But you tried to be good
You wanted to be told you were loved
To be told you were beautiful

Give me the bones
I will destroy them
while you shed the skin you were born into
I will complete the process
Bring in the harvest
I will be like my father

I think you are good
I love you
I think you are beautiful

Wisdom Teeth

I'm slurping Jello inbetween my front teeth and thinking about when we were little girls. Every Sunday after church we'd convince our parent's to take us kids out for lunch. A gigantic buffet of Chinese/Canadian food at our fingertips. You had a more exotic pallet than that, but this was cheaper than authentic Chinese cuisine. We'd dangle our fingers in the fish tank, and wait for one of the vibrant, mustached fellows to grab hold like a suction cup. We'd eat far too many chicken balls with sweet red sauce and hold our stomachs in anticipation. We'd discover what kind of animal we were on the placemats, and make fun of whoever had to be the rat. I'm pretty sure you got a good animal, like a horse, or a tiger. We wouldn't finish our icecream, and when it melted, we'd drink the leftovers like soup. And then we'd go back to the buffet, and with our brothers and your sister, we'd pile cubes of jello in little bowls, and suck out little tubes of it with straws. We'd take one extraction of yellow jello, and put it inside of a green piece, we'd put red in blue, we'd build squiggly creations on the inside of each irradescent block. I don't know that we ever actually ATE much of the jello. Then we'd steal some candies from the front desk, shove them in our pockets, and leave with bloated, satisfied stomachs.

Now, I'm taking tiny spoonfuls, pushing it softly against the ridges on the roof of my mouth. My swollen face hurts, and consuming this stuff -what IS Jello?- isn't easy. I'm an adult now, and I don't PLAY with Jello. I EAT IT.

How are you now, anyway?

Word of the 'week':

Sarcasm

We bite the hand that feeds us

It hurts to hear you cry and to not be there with you
I hate to make you cry
My words are unleashed, vicious, second-hand
They've passed through me- a strainer
But they're still starchy and when they hit you they sting

I'm sorry I'm so afraid

I had no idea I had been this wounded

I'm like a hunting trap, ready to spring shut
on you
while you approach me with intention
Not to break me, but to disarm me...even if it means letting my jaw bite

And then, after you've pulled my clenched teeth apart,

I'll smile at you.

Because that's a lot nicer than biting.

Love

Love is dark, and love is deep
It's hard to find, and it sure ain't cheap.

Love is true, and love is raw
It's hard to see, but I'm sure that I saw

when it walked across your face.

Your love is full of fables,
petal-less daisies and names carved in high school classroom tables

Your love is a promise I must make, a claim I mean to stake,
one gaze I cannot shake

Your love.

Love is warm, and love is sweet
It's hard to prove, doesn't come with a receipt

Love is pure, and love is clear
It's hard to keep, but I'm sure I was sincere

when it danced across my mouth.

Your love is full of rainfall,
shameless statements and names carved in public bathroom stalls.

Your love is a promise I must make, a claim I mean to stake,
one gaze I cannot shake

Your love.