Gorilla Hands

Dry cracked gorilla hands.
They look like hers did.

Picking up avocado peels
off of the wet cutting board.

Each nail a different length.

My hands look like her hands.
And I am ashamed.
I am scared.
I miss her.
I hate her.
I hate her hands.

These tiny gorilla hands.
I can barely pick up
these avocado seeds.
Slippery and wet.

Everything slipping through
these fingers.

Daffodils

Those silly daffodils.
They bloom too early.
Spread their yellow smiles
across freeway ramps and
random places in our gardens.

Those silly daffodils.
They're already wilting,
already brown.

They're all dead now.

Stupid silly daffodils.
Too excited
for the Spring.

Daffodils

Those silly daffodils.
They bloom too early.
Spread their yellow smiles
across freeway ramps and
random places in our gardens.

Those silly daffodils.
They're already wilting,
already brown.

They're all dead now.

Stupid silly daffodils.
Too excited
for the Spring.

MONSTER

If you knew me...

You'd know that
I want
to be a mother.

But, there are steps
I must take
to ensure
a happy, healthy
child.

I must be
financially stable
old enough
have met the
right man

A guy I dated once
told me that
we could have a child
when I saved $8000.
When I asked him why not
$7000, or $9000...
He said $7000 didn't seem
like enough...
And $9000 seemed
like too much.

I dream about
what my child's
face will look like
What kind of person
he or she will be
If I will be a good enough
mother.

Spend my daydreams
thinking up clever names
that they won't get made
fun of for.
Think about what books
I would love to teach them
to read.
Think about first steps
first words
first everythings.

If you knew me...

You'd know that
I have been the one
that 3 girlfriends
have called
to help them
get the abortion pill
they needed

To kill their mistakes.
To bleed out a child
that I would gladly
have by accident.

MAD, ANGRY

It's been almost 13 years since my mom died.
I shouldn't even say she died. 
She killed herself.

I do still find myself sad about it.
But, more often than not
I am mad.
Furious.
Seething, even.

For how could a mother who claimed to love her two children
Be so fucking selfish?

How could she love that high more than us?
How could Demerol and Codeine be more important
Than a future with her kids?
Than her kids' futures?

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.
 
I would walk into the kitchen at night and see her
With those pills and liquid opiates sprawled out
Her eyes closed
Head tilted back
Mouth open
And every time
I thought
She was dead
I would stop for a second
Look at her
Wonder if I wished it were true
Or not


Then make a loud noise to wake her from
That temporary narcotic sleep.

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.

She took those drugs to the point of
Never returning.
Heart attack.
At 38.

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.

If I saw her again, I would tell her. I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.
That mad anger I'm feeling outweighs the saddness
Most days.
I'd ask her if she knows what it's like
To lose her mother
And her father
To painpills.
She'd tell me no,
She's sorry,
She misses us.

She has no idea
That she bore an ugly cigarette burn
In my silk.
This thing, this mark I carry.
This feeling of disgust.
This little brown stray mark
Of gnarled skin, of twisted bone.
That sick scent.
Those colors.

She let her flower wilt before
She got to see us bloom.

And you know what?
We're still going to bloom.
My brother and I.
We're still going to shine on.
Just not as brightly
As we could have
Shined.

Maker of Beautiful Gifts

I have forgotten
What her laughter
Evoked in me

I don't remember
The song of
Her voice

Nor do I recall
The look on her face
When I disappointed her

I am building my own nests now
My own beautiful little things
Weaving little baskets of light
For something else to slip away
And drown in

Building strongholds
Building bridges
Repairing those burnt
Those deconstructed
Out of curiosity

Sharpening arrows to pierce
Through flesh that
Isn't just a memory
As she is now

So that one day,
I can cull
My own disappointments
Without those faces
To drown in

C&B 8/18

their chests rising and falling
outstretched, messy
drunkenly taking up spaces

they are unaware
that they are whole
beings
they have the power to
change
they are
beautiful

altered, under
the influence
their chests
rise and fall
slowly
quietly

almost sleeping now
lost in a dreamland
of calamity
and these green mountains

they have no idea what they want

once they
figure it out
it will
be
too late

and dreams will seem
like beautiful beings
changing.