sometimes i want to indulge in my emotions
bathe in them
get lost in them
but on most days i find myself
tucking them back becoming numb
unintentionally locking them away
behind my smile
yet in my mind they are plotted out so deliciously
waiting to be pecked apart like a buffet
by me & the masses
i overanalyze my emotions, undermine them
let others peck at them like frenzied birds when they come out
unedited & wiggling around like hopeless worms on the hot pavement
She loves my low voice
And that i’m pro choice
Why so serious
Do you get no joy ?
Leave the Tolstoy
For the Dostoyevsky
Or the Chekov
Or the Nabokov
Skatin on this shit
Like Gretzky
Goals i’m checkin off
Sippin soursop
When I go get my shine box
I go Joe Pesci
I shine off the top
When I freestyle
Or just from losin my hair
All about if you
Choosin to care
Just wanna see ya smile
The way you move it aint fair
Dreams in a file
Like leaves in a pile
Blew through the air
Cant grieve all my life
For shock value
They’ll send you to the chair
Kind of Blue out the player
In a Sentimental Mood
Like Duke
Ellington
Dont hit my cell again
Im in an instrumental mood
Im tryna get loose
Like Snoop
off the gin and juice
Get in the groove
Like you on the 1’s and 2’s
Get in the mood
Yeah I know what you wanna do
Baby come on through
After I lay this track
Ima lay you back
Flat on my mattress
That ass got dat fatness
Ima smash with a passion
Then Im probably crashin
Cuz it been a long day
But ima get you off that’s just
Somethin you ain’t even gotta say
just threadbare
in a way I’m learning to love
I don’t stuff the stuffing back in anymore,
just learn to appreciate changing shape
I do require needle and thread from time to time,
and a seamstress can only repair what is pierced in the first place
velveteen
you might call it scoured, but I prefer waterworn
smoothed evermore into something ancient and precious
you might even call me beloved
You look older now.
Your face peels back
to childhood versions.
Lizard skin, you wear it
like it is your own, like
this is your life now.
Your life, which consists
of ripples on stillwater
by the grace of butterfly
effects, is only as large
as your own skull is.
Every moment is a loss
you must now accept
immediately. As well,
you have lost many
people. They have
washed like shells
into the swallow of sea.
You will never touch
their lives again. You
touch your own face.
You are limestone.
You have been etched
with many elegies down
the curve of your back,
like many lover’s graffiti.
The verses become wings,
the sun looks inviting.
The light draws you in,
makes you feel real,
because in the darkness
when you cannot see
your body, you are
nothing. Your body
is your only home.
You haven’t stared
deeply into the mirror
for too long. You have
lost time. You have lost
yourself. You are not
what you once were.
You could cry for her
and your tears would be
just echoes that dissolve
into heavy, calm silence.
One day you will be
unrecognizable.
There is nothing
you can do.
What I recall most
about the moment
you became a rabbi
?
The diamond ring
.
The sunlight
that entered the synagogue
to pray
instead married
the gem upon your finger
.
United
,
their brilliance
flashed messages
about the sanctuary
which were these
:
I
!
I was a woman only
.
Now I am woman
,
a rabbi
,
a changer
,
a wife
,
and soon to be a mother
.
You seemed not to notice
the statements you made
.
Robed in black
,
your eyes fixed
upon your mentor
,
your slender fingers
gripping the sleeves
of his robe
.
He rested his hands
upon your shoulders
,
speaking words meant
for your ears alone
,
only the Torahs
in the open ark
to witness the secrets he shared
.
A leather band
A train
Gold trim
A tiny button
With one push, the sound of the engine
It travels in its little circle
My mother’s wrist watch
I’d sit and watch
I’d fall into deep sleeps
In closets
In nooks
A story about discomfort
A flash that’s as unsettling
As the sudden horn of the
CSX rails
I’m partial to rocks
Something to hold
Hands always in a fist
Even while sleeping
Dirt falls from this brain of mine
And it rattles out
All the notions
That I could have taken
If I was able to stand and see
What I couldn’t understand
When I was a kid
If only the adult me
Could take their hand
Stacked still, inside one another,
in vintage drawer, they rest
after decades of pressing
out perfect biscuits, day-after-day
dusted white, with all-purpose flour,
then scrubbed clean, dried before rust
could set in, only to wake to same
routine just like she did, donning her
red-white-checked apron, considering
the steady measure of her day, of children,
of granddaughter. She pressed
with hands that wore thin, making
lives rise high, happy, purpose-full
with near exact measurement
of her time-proven recipe.
Girllll… ain’t you heard?
Heard what?
That gal down that street gone run an got herself knocked up.
Say WHAT!
Chile yes, and guess who the deddy be!
Who??
Yo sista’s fiance!
You lyin’, nawl not so…
I didn’t want to tell you, cuz I knew you wouldna believed me.
Why should I believe you?
Why shouldn’t you?
Cuz all you do is GOSSIP!
