i think i want a scratchy beard
eating banana bread in my underwear by the window watching boys ride by fast on big
bikes wondering why their bodies fit into the crevices of spots behind fences behind
concrete walls behind dumpsters secret clubs with special handshakes & sometimes
even sub sandwiches split into fives breaking bread brothers blood communions
communication unheard unseen but there right in the pit of my belly longing to
belong to a ‘hood’ but ripe with breasts & slicked edges warring…wanting to adopt
the customary the strength within me i know if my uterine lining would stop
seeping out & staining every fabric i wrapped with & then i got older & understood
the expectations give your life & you’ll get god you’ll draw the sword from stone with
your bare hands & your brains they’ll turn you into something calloused & veined
you’ll be the object of desire a king to an infinite feeding of queens what is owed to
you, yours what is unearned by you, yours what is death without a funeral? what is
this way i grip myself from the waist down as if i have something to drive into you? bomb
off half this body & place it in a museum luck be a lady & you a horny horse look
at her… afraid to suck a thing until it’s dry stay thirsty, then damned if you
don’t you won’t & when they ask a child to recount the days she’s
spent silent don’t be surprised if it’s a yellow legal pad an electric typewriter a
password protected diary a closet wall an old rolling suitcase in the
basement a steel tub where her mother watches her bathe a big, red
pimple a theory.