Waiting Game

Tags

coredump, mommyness, PMS, relationships

My belly puffs like froth from pot
of elaichi chai forgotten. Chunky ginger
burning brown, I spill out of my denim.

He wants to play, his calls are nails
run down on chalk *scrape*. I can’t escape.

I see the way you see
me (is lazy a euphemism?) my
tears crow shit on fresh pressed shirt -
random, unwelcome.

I slapped him with my eyes why
can I not die on ticklish thighs?

Wretched uterus knead yourself, cramp
me till I bleed. Bleed to stop
the flood from top, to mourn
the egg you bore and quietly
dropped.

Comfort Zone

Tags

coredump, writing

Air-condition yourself
in a windowless forever. It’s safer
than provocation of a killer
bee family from a rained-out vacation.

Wake up. Fool!
Selfishness tagged bravery. Surely,
the spool that oscillates your reverie
leaves nothing but pillows soaking up drool.

Special Delivery

Tags

coredump, mommyness

I stamp my sons
on skins exposed,
like electric wires sipping
puddles, with kisses.

Fold them to creases,
burritos of questions,
in envelope of education
secured by saliva.

We go postal.
Corn-mazed by System
that sorts ‘em and ports ‘em
(unless they lose ‘em).

Their minds are pigeons
tied by messages dictating
destinations. Winds muddle
their course and a little girl
finds your gun in the banyan
of your church so shoots them
into my backyard.

Groceries

Tags

coredump, domestication, mundane, SAHM

I inchwormed to the trolley
double-bagged in plastic knowing
something’s gonna give. Shit!

Where are my eggs? I fret – beneath
emerald Stellas or two-percents, I bet.

*Phew* there they lay! Safe below GMO
cereal varnished in fructose, above
all-natural chicken breasts.
All-natural like breasts
feeding newborns. No hormones,
no antibiotics they said.

(We’re all farmed).

Time a uterus, will I make it
before the doors vaginismus on me?

Don’t fail me quilted toilet rolls
cinnamon raisin rolls
2-fer-1 Tostitos
and Double Stuf Oreos from checkout counter.

Push my button for me.
Please. Thank you, dog-person
in chartreuse with no kids. Shit!

Did I miss anything on my list? Hummus.
To replace the vitriol that is
cholesterol of eggs. Elevator jaws *kerrrpluck*
them be my eggs.

Of Lists

Tags

coredump, domestication, mundane, SAHM

0) Penciled expectations shift
on pharmaceutical notepads
like alphabet soup. And I stare,
dyslexic.

1) Stick it on the fridge you said
and I licked blue cotton
candy on the flying trapeze bare
feet kicking, marinated
in shell-crusted silica and Kosher salt.

2) Standard shipping’s fine yes
of course, I’m fine. I am
great white shark on a boat gasping,
epileptic. They tag my dorsal and fish
for the needle broken inside me.

3) Call the dentist – pediatric specialist well,
that’s obvious. Like Icarus. I melted
my dream seduced by stars wearing nothing
but birthday candles from nineteen ninety six.

4) Stick it on the fridge you kissed
me on my forehead crumpling promises
on paper like fall leaves under sequined boots
of a girl I once knew.

Cobwebs In Corners

Tags

coredump, writing

Hirsute arachnids wake
from siestas in perfect
shimmering geometries.

Imperfect spider I am
amputated to four -
a tangled ineptitude.

Poor black widow chokes
on her venom
as superheroes shoot poetry
from wrists sliced in perfect
coagulating symmetries.

Sucketh Much?

I think I should rename this space to howtowritesuckypoetry. The Internetz ought to barf out these cliched bytes. But such is the beauty, the ugliness of the Web: bytes are bytes, inspired or not. (Page hits are judgemental mofos though: grim bearers of truth).

Maybe it’s detox. Or ADD. But till better sense strikes, dear Internet, make do with my half-hearted apology as I drivel forth. Fearlessly.

Buttered Toast

Tags

coredump, domestication, mundane, SAHM

I’ve had my breakfast
Uninterrupted -
Comes next I have no clue.
I’ll search in dust
And shattered quail eggs
A morning’s hullabaloo.

Should I wear gloss
And match my socks
Or should I confront the bills?
A leaky faucet
I must get out!
The silence is ghastly shrill.

How strange it is
To walk our ‘hood
Without you on magic pumpkin.
I’ll flip the shade
You’ll make me ache
With toes beggin’ to be eaten.

Letter To My Younger Self

Tags

body, coredump, flashback

Sore you crawled
In oversized dryers ‘hind Harrison Hall
(Where freshman boys did pee last fall).

Spinning fresh lavender
Wring him out clean
Limping outside still dripping between.

Morning breath
On virgin nipple lingers
Fishy glue dried on blistery fingers.

You temptress, you witch,
You precocious little whore
When you stopped for some air -
Why didn’t you scream NO MORE?

Vantage Point

Tags

coredump, relationships

Yet you stand
Lamp-posting me
With your incandescent brilliance.
You burn,
I flicker erratically
My twisted diminishing innocence.

Roar to summon
Your shaggy crown
Pee around my labial territory.
Bite of flesh if you please
Claim all that is yours
Of a mind with no periphery.

Your net my shadow
Where once was safe
I hatched my eggs, cracked, pretended
Your bite a love
Of a hungered fool
In a story’s far from ended.