Viewing entries tagged
women poets

contusion

—after sylvia plath's 'contusion'

 

the girths of the seasoned girls hold secrets

bare, oily expositions in subtropical sun

the past's darkening repercussions sub rosa

 

what was rose swiftly goes to lilac and lost denim,

in a week will be chartreuse, ending in fawn

after manners of the savages, formosa 1928

after manners of the savages, formosa 1928

the whites of your feathers and the roundness of your symmetries

the skyblue adornments as backdrop and accessory,

the thatched dwelling harmonious, linear, with purer purpose

 

the fresh pink of your crown and the bands at your knees, 

the cheekbones of sepia and the ligaments strong,

the black wraps on your bodies more essence than black sand beneath

 

the beads of color indicative, long, the clasp to hold longer,

the stripes with intent, stitched for time and its passages,

the feet adapted, the shoulders back, the stares the proudest of all

 

if these are the manners stamped as savage in sand a century before, how do our

meticulous sound systems,

bamboo attempts at fortitude,

synthetic searches for safety,

frond waving sinews of exhaustion,

feminist proclivities,

widening pupillary ethereality, and

dulled with dirt ersatz adornments

on the gods' manicured hills

have room for the way we choose to bend?

tarot readings & electronic beaches

tarot readings & electronic beaches

substances over substantiality has been for a time

the modus operandi; i draw and select of pentacles—queen,

i enter the sand battling barefooted, searching for my dark woman

 

there wigged women shuffle black sand toes

knees knifing, elbows bowed against

tautly turning bellies harnessing hope

 

mostly ignoring rhythmic knowledge, i am found

searching for men with dramatized eyes,

a black night fronds and silver stars aesthetic

 

i am found beneath a wig, a pretension, and a problem—

the people climb imaginary walls, wriggling for some eyes only, but

compliments from jeweled crown women lull ego to perception

 

the moths' wings drowned in urine and sweat

bland colored creatures struggle on blue plastic embossment

lest we slip and land on our backs pathetically writhing in tune

 

and too sand slips from the wide eyed feign’s lamenting hand

i spit small balls of mugwart leaf, blood purging out in retribution

still blinded by sandstorm beards & salt hips covered in patterns saccharine

 

kisses under cold wet sheets, colder cans, and steaming sweatback creatures

clamor from tent to stage, feral and feeling more and less than they'd bargained for

none of this is real anyway, the placement of beats absorbs our sins

 

back for more brew, last day, red cup offered to white lost lips

the five point celestial embodiment of purge, except and let go

the garment touting woman isn’t dark enough, yet one must serve as guide

 

CAUTION:

do not wake while sleeping

do not knock when bach’s mass in b minor is on[1]

 

do not wash dishes while shower is running[2]

do not ask questions audibly while there is reading to be done[3]

 

do not say ‘right,’ ‘calm down,’ ‘relax, or ‘chill’

at your own risk: ‘hurry up,’ ‘come on,’ or ‘you’ll be late’

 

ask neither ‘are you ready?’ nor ‘how much longer do you think...?’[4]

do not allow the yolk to cook[5]

 

do not approach in media res[6]

i repeat, do not approach in media res

 

do not empty coffee carafe into her mug[7]

do not save it for yourself[8]

 

do not leave her towels heaped, a sponge submerged, or damp refuse

do not watch her take any care while imparting knowledge to the task

 

do not mismatch the power cords from adapters and their sockets

do not allow duvet cover to crumple, revealing the loathed beige sofa beneath

 

do not double lock her door

do not inquire as to her innumerable alarms

 

do not bring balcony slippers into the house

smoke outside, but do not leave the screen ajar

 

no crumbs on the floor

no unsolicited contact during sleep

no long kisses without tongue

don’t dare tilt her macbook screen

 

now go, enjoy[9]

and as always, operate with care

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] if you don’t know what to listen for, just never knock at all

[2] you think you’re helping to tidy up, yet you’ll end up dying young

[3] a DM will not distract her all that much; expect a prompt response

[4] if any of the aforementioned pragmatics came as a shock, please place down this poem; out the way you came

[5] if it doesn’t run, you should

[6] from liquid eyeliner application to cutting produce, this is ill advised within pre-lunch domestic sphere

[7] detestable dregs!

[8] takes one to want some

[9] bring wine

wet behind the ears

living very far away and having resigned herself to certain attributes

of my personality—which are mostly blamed on the poor

conditions of the countries I choose to live in

and/or my father’s side of the family’s genetic

predispositions, she finally instructs over the not so

small phone placed under the only plant

i can really keep alive—bamboo,

if you were wondering: “get it while you can…

your figure,

your brains,

your secretions,

—they all leave you.”

my mother advises, and the support becomes bakhtinian

grotesque in that instant.

i would like to bring this up to the poet women

whom i plan, cackle, dream, and dine with.

instead we like

to talk about how long we can last

until wet

or dry shampoo is in order.

 

whom are we challenging?