Posts for June 8, 2022 (page 5)

Category
Poem

Omega

Kill me in the soft moonlight.
Rip me apart with your teeth and your tears
never letting me go.  

Hold onto my tatters.
Let me be that piece of meet stuck between your teeth
the cause of your gnashing jaws.

And after I’m good and dead
say a prayer for the woman you loved like prey
but excpected to become your mate. 

And after you leave what’s left of my body
the sun will rise over the hills
and I promise you’ll regret what you’ve done.


Category
Poem

Least Favorite Child

there’s a new trend on tiktok

tell me you’re the least favorite child 
without telling me you’re the least favorite child 
the responses may be the saddest i’ve ever seen 
people share stories of their childhood 
forgotten in a supermarket 
the only kid whose birthday went by uncelebrated each year
not invited on family vacation 

my story isn’t like that
unfortunately for me 
there were no witnesses 

tell me you’re the least favorite child 
without telling me you’re the least favorite child

one time i was home alone with my mom and she called me her slave 
the word cut through me with such ease 
the sharpest knife i’d ever encountered. 

tell me you’re the least favorite child 
without telling me you’re the least favorite child 

a lie about my report card 
was met with 
you’re such a liar – did he even touch you?

tell me you’re the least favorite child 
without telling me you’re the least favorite child 

when i mustered up the courage to say
i want to die
the response? 

do it then 

 


Category
Poem

core value number four: profit

I walk into my apartment with my mask on.

another coworker who worked today
testing positive for Covid.
another convincing management to close the store early.

I wave to my partner.
they wave back.
they know the drill by now.
I stand in front of the washing machine
throwing all my clothes in,
my mask,
my socks.
I know it doesn’t change anything.
medium fill,
heavy soil,
start.
this time it doesn’t even bring me
peace of mind.

I stand in the shower
pretending the hot water
will sanitize me
from the inside out.
no matter how hard I scrub
I know I won’t feel clean.

I’m angry at management
who stood there
looked at us
and told us how unlikely it was that we would get Covid from this
and how we technically could still work
since we’ve been vaccinated.
he asks me if I would be alright
sacrificing an hour and a half of pay
if we closed early.

(what happened to Covid pay?)

I reply that
my partner has multiple chronic health conditions
and they already have long Covid
and I think they would be in danger
if they got it again,
so,
yes,
I don’t mind sacrificing
an hour and a half
to keep them safe.
he nods.
I can’t read his expression under his mask.
a moment passes where
no one knows what to say.

I blame him.
for refusing us mask mandates in the cafe,
for caring more about
how much money he would be losing in
a god forsaken hour and a half
than for the health of his employees
and their families.
my coworkers ask angrily why he doesn’t care.
I remind them that
we’re replaceable.

I blame my partner’s parents
for not getting them the healthcare they needed
as a child.
maybe the pandemic wouldn’t be so
fucking terrifying for them
if they had.

I’m even blaming the doctors,
the scientists.
did you know some at-home tests
don’t actually test for the Delta strand?
my coworker asks me.
she says her mom is
a nurse practitioner.

I blame the president,
the capitalists,
the corporations and
all the other “bad guys” I can think of.
I blame my parents
for raising me in this country.
home of the brave essential workers,
land of the free to work through a pandemic;
free to survive it;
free to become another nameless statistic
that politicians will tweet their
thoughts and prayers
about.

my partner walks towards me
with eleven dollar bills
crinkled in their hands.
“you want to order a pizza?”

there is nothing else I can do to keep them safe.

we have to eat soon
so I can sleep soon
so I can wake up and go to work again tomorrow.
there is no way to fight this
because everyone is to blame
so no one is to blame.
no one can be held accountable.
this is our new normal.
there is nothing else for me to do
except to be angry,
write a poem about being angry,
and think about what to get for dinner.

yeah, I say.
let’s order a pizza.


Category
Poem

skin

a spell,

said to pin prick our joy

and save it for the fear

   tucked beneath our ears.

hands up

for big living,

privy to the “good girl english”

pierced through skull and grime

          never leaving grieving time

for the burnt up news spread that

shrieks erasure to those not knocked

but chalked full of,

i am

and never

      what will i have to be.

hung to a different mercy

   the three times better

          the four steps ahead,

                     the five gunshots

while you’re sleeping in bed

the half pulled knife;

the chain broken

but your hands still crossed behind your back.

we don’t snap, we repair,

it’s false, it’s unaware

 

we get the check mark,

the, you’ve passed, the, you’re good,

        you’re in

        you win

too bad we can’t skin,

      your skin

 


Category
Poem

Nature

I attach to you like a thief

I listen to you like a drum

I vanish with you in delirium


Category
Poem

Pieces

Crystalline shards,
Light glinting off splinters that had once been whole and beautiful.
The fragile whole was not Real.
A reflection of what was not, but that which was hoped into existence so hard it could no longer withstand the pressure
And it exploded.
Burst apart in a blast so big and quiet that no one felt the slicing slivers, only the shock.
Buried deeper with each breath, each step.
Wounded and bleeding, there is nothing left to do but give up. Give in.
Pain no longer sustains.
Dig into the old wounds, now bled fresh.
Laid out, laid bare, hot tears wash and heal.
And gold rebuilds the pieces into a Real more beautiful.


Category
Poem

Isolator

Sliding in
through the door.
Hear the people,
nevermore. 

Trust me in
what I say.
I’ve never known,
how to play.  

Blanket fort.
I’m not four.
It keeps me safe,
from the floor.  

A stranger thing
looks at me.
My own image,
mockingly.  

Sliding out
through the door.
Big deep breath,
I’m forty four.


Category
Poem

A New Normal

When the robot voice

sings the tornado warning,

I grab my wine glass—

 

already half full

with happy hour Shiraz—

then run downstairs fast.

 

In the basement, we

watch the weather on TV,

gauge the rotation.

 

Dog, man, cat, and I

hunker down in the bathroom

’til the “all clear” sounds.

 

A rare occasion?

No, I think we’ve done this twice

in one week. (Oh, yes.)

 


Category
Poem

Delicious

Our love is like chocolate in a factory
pouring over unsuspecting peanuts 
making movie candy.
It coats and surrounds and shields what’s inside.

And maybe that’s the way to describe us —
two distinct ingredients
who join to make something even better.

You make my life sweeter, and 
you give my life more substance and sustenance. 

I love you, Goober. 


Category
Poem

It’s all about Letter’s & Number’s Leading 2 Words to be an Up Right Man.

It’s all about how 1 sees life through their eyes
How a couple is adequate mening 2
when words of 3 comprehend: the few how and why
luv aid the one who ail and cry
alongside interpretations with long wording forming a beating heart
Centered
where one symbol conveys lines to mark 4
a box
where at time we have to step outside 
and say 5 words giving no high 5’s 
2 repeat over and over
Where 6 repeats six 2
say 7 languages to a man’s pride
I’m Sorry
because he 8 crow to words coming back to seven
equaling ate 
to adding the end to this poem to say
everything isn’t meant to be easy to understand
but I’m Sorry, I hurt you.
Because 15 cents is my profession to who I am
which allows me to be an 
UP RIGHT MAN,
RIGHT?